For The Only Hope
by ausland
Summary: Dumbledore would not have left Harry- trouble magnet Harry Potter- defenseless for all those years at Hogwarts. At thirteen Hermione Granger becomes his protector, working and training with Severus, giving up her childhood to ensure Harry's safety. As the years pass, Severus becomes teacher, mentor, friend, and- eventually- lover. A story of spies, plots, and love. T for now. HG-18
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Welcome, to both established SS/HG shippers (feel free to skip to the end of the A/N) and new comers! If you are unfamiliar with the ship, please read the A/N.**

**Especially if you've come from one of my other stories, please note that this is Severus/Hermione romance. And it will be more than a bit different from TWOT or 1995. (actually very different) Don't worry, though, Hermione will be 18 before the romance starts.**

**This story is also filed under "Adventure." This means that there will be fighting, action, plotting (spy story!), and things other than kissing in this story. So... be ready for action, plots, and kissing! **

**This is a story in three parts, all of which are going to be under this general story. Part One: Hermione grows up (while sneaky things happen in Hogwarts). Part Two: Hermione and Severus realize they love each other (while sneaky things happen with the Order and the Death Eaters). Part Three: Severus and Hermione actually make a go of it (while trying their best to end the Dark Lord). **

**Not everything is going to be canon... in fact, plenty is changed in this first chapter alone. You'll see. This will bear some similarities to _When a Lioness Fights, _by kayly silverstorm, but not really because of things that might ruin the plot. :) So read on and see why for yourself. **

**Chapters will be posted every Friday. As I mentioned before, I have 15 done and I am writing the 16th. I've been working on this story for two years, and it is more than 100k... so no matter what you will get that much.**

**_Part One_**

**_Chapter 1_**

"Severus. Lemon drop?" The only reply from the man before him was a pointed glare. Albus Dumbledore nodded, resigned, as he tucked the brown paper packet of candy back into a hidden pocket of his colorful robes. He was used to his stern and severe Potions Master declining his tart offering. But, cheerful as ever, the old man smiled and inclined his head once more, silently bidding the man to sit.

Severus Snape appeared to be distinctly uncomfortable in the small, cozy office. His black robes were tightly wrapped around him and his trademark scowl was more firmly in place than ever. It had not been an easy night for the professor. "You needed to speak with me, Albus?" His words were crisp and clean, spoken in silky distaste, making it quite clear that he had a hundred other things to do, most of them preferable to the current situation. He was quite talented in the use of his voice- he managed to convey his displeasure with the late summons, his unpleasant but not totally unexpected surprise after the Sorting, and his irritation with the world in general.

Coughing slightly, Albus replied. "Yes. What were your impressions of young Mr. Potter?" As expected, the Potions Master lost a slight measure of his control at the name. However, his loss of control was different from that of an ordinary man- Severus Snape's eyes grew darker, if possible, and if anyone had been able to penetrate their depths, they would have seen a sharp bite of pain. His hands flexed once, and his sallow cheeks held the barest hint of a flush. But that was all.

"He was obviously unprepared for his entry into the Wizarding World," the dour man said, even more clipped and precise than before. "He has bonded with the Side of Light," -this was said in an impressively sarcastic tone- "One of the Weasleys has befriended him. Draco Malfoy offered a hand of friendship, which Potter denied. He was under the Sorting Hat for a slightly longer than normal time- probably the hat deciding between two houses. It takes no idiot to guess that it was a fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

His words had the desired effect- Dumbledore frowned, glaring at the man in front of him. "Explain how you came to this conclusion." It was indeed of great importance that the only one to ever survive the wrath of Lord Voldemort- that is to say, Harry Potter- stay on the Side of Light and never stray. For if Harry Potter was lost, all was lost.

And if certain people knew that Harry had almost been Sorted into Slytherin…

Severus snorted. "He was Sorted into Gryffindor. That is one house. The fact he was mouthing 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin' gives us the other one." His face was as expressionless as it normally was, but the faint nervous tick under his right eye gave him away. "May I leave? I have classes tomorrow and a new batch of incompetent imbeciles to keep from blowing up their cauldrons and my classroom."

"Have you finished your part of the protections for the Stone?" asked Dumbledore, still considering the information.

Handing over a roll of parchment, Severus stood. "And it rhymes, now," he said sarcastically. "As requested. Anything else?"

Albus nodded slowly, reading over the riddle. "No, no. Are you certain this will provide an adequate challenge for Harry?"

"Most wizards couldn't solve a simple logic puzzle," snapped Snape, anger flickering in his eyes. "And may I remind you again how ridiculously dangerous it is to even consider having the Stone-"

"You may leave, Severus." Albus looked up. "I've been planning this for years. This will be a perfect test of the boy's abilities. And if it happens to draw Tom out of hiding, all the better."

_He lost his mind years ago,_ Severus thought resignedly. _And if the Dark Lord does reappear, what will you do old man? The Order of the Phoenix has grown feeble and complacent, whilst the Death Eaters chafe at the bonds of everyday drudgery and remember the days when the New Order was within reach…_

With a dramatic flair of his robes, Severus Snape departed the Headmaster's office with his scowl set even more firmly than before. Woe behold any student out of bed on their first night back- the feared Potions Master was on the prowl.

* * *

The round faces of the first years stared up at him, for their first Potions class ever. Some looked apprehensive- those were the ones that had older siblings that he had taught. Others looked eager- there was one bushy haired girl with chipmunk teeth that looked as if she might bounce out of her seat.

And there was Harry (not James however much he may look bloody identical to his father ) Potter. Next to him was a sniveling Weasley and on his other side was a boy who looked absolute terrified.

As he took roll, he evaluated his plan for the class. He needed to make sure they were terrified of him- potions accidents could be deadly and he needed absolute control in the classroom. _Of course I don't think it's fun to have the little shits so terrified that they stop breathing when I come near. Oh, who am I kidding. Of course it is. And it helps insure they don't blow me up by accident._

"Ah, yes," Severus said softly, drawing out the last syllable. "Harry Potter. Our new…" oh, how to phrase this? So many options. "Celebrity." His godson and the accompanying cronies sniggered. He didn't glance up again until he finished calling roll.

And now for his favorite part of the first class. His speech. The time to see if any of the dunderheads in his classroom would possibly be able to grasp the beauty and subtleties of potion making.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said, savoring ever word, voice barely above a whisper. He glanced around the room, then moved out from behind his desk. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I do not expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…" he drew pause for breath. This was interesting.

The annoyingly eager girl was perched at the edge of her seat, face perfectly still and serious. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-" he narrowed his eyes and made his voice into a dangerous snap. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." That snapped her out of it. He turned his attention to Harry Potter.

And now. The moment of truth. Would Lily's son actually have her gift for Potions? Would he have bothered to read ahead in his books, the way he and she had twenty years ago? They had read so far ahead, discussing all the subjects but Potions most of all.

And although he was 99% sure this would fly over the boy's head, he would get the last of his guilt over Lily's death out at the same time. _No, you won't. This is foolish. Someone else might understand it, and then where would you be? And you're kidding yourself if you think apologizing to her son is going to change anything. You're going to regret Lily's death until the day you die and plant symbols aren't going to help one bit._

"Potter," he barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" _I bitterly regret her death, Potter. I would have taken her place. I tried._

Potter didn't answer, but the girl in the front row had her hand raised as soon as he finished the last word. He ignored her. "I don't know, sir."

"Tut, tut- fame clearly isn't everything." He sneered at the boy, in lieu of actually showing his disappointment. _Damn. _

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" An easier question, one a first year could definitely answer, even if they had only briefly looked over the book. Again the girl's hand shot high in the air, and he could see her biting her lip to refrain from bouncing up and down. _Gryffindors._

Again, the same answer from the boy. "I don't know, sir."

For some reason, this annoyed him greatly. _All you had to do was look at the bloody text before coming._ "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" His eyes met Potters and something inside his heart clenched. Lily's eyes. In James Potter's face. It hurt.

One more question. An incredibly easy one. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" It seemed the girl in front was getting fed up- she stood up, not that it added much height, arm stretched in the air.

"I don't know," the boy said. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" The laughter rankled at Snape. _Just like his father._

He glared at the girl, eyes delving into her mind. She was practically screaming the answers to his questions, projecting him so loudly it was incredibly easy to pull them from her mind. Surprisingly, she was right. "Sit down, girl," he snapped at her.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you copying that down?"

He could feel a headache coming on.

* * *

"It cannot happen again!" Dumbledore roared, façade of a calm, wise, old man fled in the face of the day's events. "The boy almost died today during his first Quidditch match. It is unacceptable!" _So if someone other than you puts him in danger, then it's a problem. Duly noted._

Severus Snape watched with wary eyes at the unnatural display of temper on Dumbledore's part. "The Potter boy is more trouble than he's worth," he said caustically, if cautiously. "First the ridiculous deal with Draco and the Longbottom boy's Remembrall when they were learning to fly. Then the Midnight Duel when Draco tried and failed to trap him, Weasley, Longbottom, and that Granger girl." At the mention of the busy haired nuisance, his face twisted into a sneer. "And after that, Halloween." Severus felt a throbbing in his leg and arm at the mention of the dratted night. "The boy goes after a bloody mountain troll, no matter what Granger said. The girl's mind was surprising in the amount of control she has over it, but it is defenseless." Those clear brown eyes had hidden a beautifully organized mind, one worthy of a beginning Occlumens. If she hadn't been a Gryffindor, he would have recommended she study the mind arts

Albus steepled his fingers, and nodded gravely. "That was brave of Harry. To go to the defense of a girl he barely knows is something worthy of Gryffindor House." _No,_ Severus thought. _To go against a twelve foot mountain troll as a first year with hardly any magical training to save an innocent you trapped with the previously mentioned twelve foot mountain troll is stupid._

"If you say it was something his father would have done, I assure you, I will revisit my dinner," Severus said dryly. "And as for the girl, he could have chosen someone better. She is nothing but a walking, talking encyclopedia. I'm sure you've noticed how high both the Weasley boy and Potter's grades have risen since they befriended the chit?" It was point of constant irritation to him that she kept helping them. They were undeserving and unthankful of her time. Although, he supposed, he must be at least a little grateful. All the time it must take her to attempt to pound their essays into any sort of sense meant less time for her to practice written regurgitation on the miserably lengthy papers she turned in to him.

The Headmaster just smiled blithely. "Yes. I assumed she had influenced them to study more." _No, you didn't, you bloody wanker. _Severus made no effort to disguise his disgust with the Headmaster, rolling his eyes and huffing out a loud sigh.

"She was the one who set my bloody robes on fire today," he muttered. "Conveniently tripping over Quirrell on her way to roast a teacher." At Dumbledore's raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "She's bright enough to recognize the signs of a person who is jinxing another person. However, Miss Granger is not bright enough to know the difference between a jinx and a counter-jinx."

The Headmaster furrowed his brow, and eyed Severus thoughtfully. Too thoughtfully. In Severus' opinion, anytime Albus Dumbledore got that particular expression it would be a bad few years- decades even- for whomever he was thinking of. "In your opinion, Harry Potter gets himself into far too much danger, correct?" The wily glint in his eye was visible to Snape, who had seen it directed at himself far too often in past years for comfort.

"Yes," said the Potions Master carefully. "He has a dangerous disregard for the rules. He enjoys wandering the school at night. I believe he will develop an even bigger head with the Quidditch success that will assuredly be his. His grades are mediocre and his friendship with Granger means only that he gets by with cheating off of her and not learning."

"So," Dumbledore proposed, quite logically, "He needs a protector, does he not?" His blue eyes were twinkling madly, and inwardly, Severus cursed like a sailor for allowing himself to be caught in such an obvious trap.

He glared at the Headmaster. "No. Not me. I refuse." His mind flew to Lily Evans, the first person who had ever needed him, and the person who, debatably, had hurt him the most in the grand total of his thirty long, long years. No, he hadn't loved her. But to a teenaged boy, infatuation was close enough and for a man as damaged as Severus, Lily's actions had been devastating. "I will not."

"You promised to watch over him," Dumbledore reminded him, tone somewhere between reprimanding and warning. "You promised the memory of his mother." However, when the old man saw that the Potions Master refused to budge on the matter, he sighed. "And anyway, Severus, I wasn't thinking of you."

This surprised the firmly stubborn man- but the only signs were a slight widening of his eyes and a stiffening of his back. "What?" _Some other poor soul roped into giving his or her life for the Boy-Who-Lived. Wasn't Lily enough?_ He had to look away- to concentrate on something other than the Headmaster's twinkling eyes and solemn expression. A study of the cluster of silver spindly instruments on a corner shelf fared nicely- he watched them puff for a calming moment until he faced the man again.

"For all your talents as a spy," Dumbledore said seriously, "You have alienated the boy. He would not come to you for help or protection. In fact, Hagrid tells me that the boy detests you." _Likewise,_ Severus added in his mind. Dumbledore, master Legilimens that he was, did not notice, but continued his with his theory. "Therefore, we need someone closer to Harry. I was thinking about one of his friends."

"One of his friends?" whispered Severus, face paling in degrees. "The bumbling red-headed oaf or the overeager know-it-all? Unless you were thinking of the walking disaster that is Neville Longbottom?" He shook his head once more, stringy black hair flinging about his face. "I forbid it. Not only would you be putting Potter in more danger, but you would be ripping away the childhood of one of his friends." _The Dark Lord will return soon enough. Let them be children for as long as they damn well can._

"But I think it is necessary," Dumbledore intoned sadly. "For the Greater Good." He leaned back in his chair, and regarded the man in front of him. "Severus," he said, clearly attempting to sound wise and reasonable. "Think about it. Over the summer we can train either Mr. Weasley, or Miss Granger. Take them to one of the old safe houses from the glory days of the Order. Then we could be assured Harry is as safe as possible when we are not with him."

"But which one?" asked Severus sarcastically. "Mr. Weasley will probably blush, stammer, wet his pants, and promptly faint when confronted by a spider. And Miss Granger will stand stock still running through all the spells she has ever learned trying to decide which one will earn her more points before being stunned by whoever her opponent is."

Dumbledore winced. He had clearly not thought this through- if that was possible for Albus Dumbledore. "Then it is up to you," he said finally, in his best delegating voice. "Report back to me before the end of the year as to which on would be the best choice. And I think the traps we planned for the stone will be an excellent test."

* * *

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," Harry said earnestly. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now." In the dim light of the corridor, Hermione sighed. Something about this entire set up was fishy. She wasn't about to let Harry go into it alone. The little, friendless girl in her clung to him and his approval desperately- and Harry valued bravery.

"Don't be stupid," said Ron. Hermione nodded, and glanced at Ron over Harry's shoulder for confirmation. Ron was where she drew the line- she had enough pride not to try to seek his approval. Harry was enough of a blow to her ego.

"We're coming," said Hermione, in her 'this is what I am saying and that is not changing anytime soon' voice. Together, the trio crept into the room where the sleeping Cerberus lay, snorting and snoring. Somehow, the beast sensed them, its ears perking up and three of its eyes opening threateningly.

Hermione gently eased the wooden flute from Harry's motionless hand, and began to play, desperately trying to remember her music classes at day school. As she played, as soothingly as she could, Ron and Harry pushed one of Fluffy's paws off the trapdoor. When the boys had opened it, they gathered around the edge, looking down.

All Hermione could see was a narrow tunnel, the walls dark and moist. _And I suppose I'm going to be jumping into that pit of despair sometime soon,_ she thought with a sigh and a quick scale. Her fingers fumbled, and she mentally cursed before starting to play 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.' Harry gave her a strange look, but she shrugged. It _was_ Mozart, after all.

"I can't see anything," Ron whispered. "It's just a dark tunnel." With a quick glance at both his friends, he paled then adopted a skittish grin. "Me first!" Hermione forced herself to keep playing as Ron's screams bounced off the walls of the tunnel, heart stopping for a moment until she heard a thump and an "Oof" from Ron as he landed.

"It's a bit of a rough landing," Ron called up, thin voice echoing off the walls of the tunnel. "But there is some kind of squishy stuff here." Hermione grinned in relief, then motioned with her elbow. Harry winked and saluted, then jumped down with a strained yell. When she heard him land, she bit down her fear and followed him, tucking the flute into her pocket- she had a feeling she would need it later. Above her, she could hear the dogs awake and start barking, raising a racket that would never be heard at this time of night in the enormous castle.

She landed with an exhalation of breath, on what felt like slimy tentacles. Looking around her, she saw Harry and Ron sitting up on the luminous green-gray surface of something that looked vaguely familiar. There was a musty, earthy smell in the air, and the walls dripped with moisture.

"What now?" asked Ron, pale blue eyes turned in her direction. "What next?" _Funny how they always expect me to know everything._

She was about to answer him when Harry let out a strangled yelp. "Hermione!" She turned to face him, finding suspicious resistance. With a gasp, she realized that the tentacles they were sitting on were slowly creeping up their bodies. Harry was trapped up to the waist, Ron to the chest. Both boys started struggling furiously, fear evident in their round faces.

Ignoring their cries, Hermione clenched her eyes shut and focused, thinking as hard as she could. What did she know about this thing -it was a greenish-gray, it had tentacles, it was moving, it was in the dark and damp- her mind pulled up the pages of a Herbology book she had read months ago.

_The plant known as Devil's Snare is a dangerous one- especially in the dark and damp. It is most active at night, when its tendrils- usually a shade of green, brown, or gray- spread and ensnare small birds and mammals. It lives in caves or under deep cover because sunlight is most deadly to it._

"Heat!" Hermione shouted. "Heat and sunlight. Fire!" Despair rolled over her- how was she supposed to make a fire in the deepest recesses of the castle? "We don't have any wood!"

"Are you a witch or not?" roared Ron. "Merlin, Hermione!" Humiliation brought a blush to her cheeks as she extracted her wand and let out a stream of small blue-bell flames. Recoiling from the light, the plant allowed the trio to pull themselves free, making their way over to the only wall that was made of stone instead of dirt, the only wall that had a small passageway.

The next room had keys with wings and brooms to catch them with. Harry took care of that challenge in less than fifteen minutes, his Seeker's eyes pinpointed the only key with a bent wing. She braved her fear of brooms (she had thought those were just stories- what sane person trusts their life to a stick with other sticks bundled to the end?) and helped Harry and Ron corner the darned thing.

The room after, however, was not as easy.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, watching her red-headed friend and occasional tormenter crumple to the ground from the white stone queen's blow to his head. She was echoed by Harry, who, face grim and resolute, stepped to the square needed to checkmate the king.

They won, rushing past and barely noticing the submission of the white pieces. Hermione dragged Ron with them, and then stopped at the door. She and Harry both wanted to access their friend's condition before moving any further. Flashes of medical textbooks were appearing in her mind's eye at a mile a minute, phrases like _subdural hematoma, hypercalcemia, _and _subarachnoid hemorrhage _floating in.

Heart beating in her throat, Hermione felt along the scrawny boy's throat for a pulse. When she found one, faint, but there, she broke out in a grin of relief. Not matter how much Ron insulted her and mocked her, he was still the second of the two friends she had. "He'll be okay, for now," she assured Harry. "As long as his- his head injury isn't bad, he'll be okay."

"That's good," Harry whispered, glancing back at the pieces. "Wizard Chess is brutal." A shiver of dread ran through him as he forcefully drew his gaze from the piles of black and white rubble littering the sides of the chessboard.

"We can't stay here," Hermione said firmly, looking Harry in the eye. "We have to keep moving."

They passed through the door that had been blocked by the white pieces. It swung open, and out wafted a stench like the two had only experienced once- that of a full grown mountain troll. Sweat, mud, putrid flesh, urine, and bad breath, all rolled into one. They peered through the crack in the door, and what they saw caused Hermione to moan in dull terror and Harry to let a small cry of fear escape.

It was a mountain troll- one that was standing tall in the chamber, holding a club in one hand, feet chained to a magically reinforced metal ring at the center of the floor. She eyed the chain- its reach was just long enough to allow the troll enough room to swing his club around to every edge of the room. It sniffed the air and lumbered a few steps in her direction before she squeaked and shut the door quickly.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, steeling herself. She had faced one of these before. They won. Against all odds, they had won, and she had lived. They could do it again. "Harry," she said sharply when he didn't respond. "What do you want to do?"

He looked at her, eyes resigned and face far too solemn for a young boy. "I need to get past it. You can stay here with Ron."

She shook her head. "No. You need help." She didn't say she wasn't afraid, because that wasn't true. She didn't say that they would be okay because she wasn't sure if that was true either. "I'll help you."

"Do you have a plan?" asked Harry. "Please say you have a plan, or at least an idea." _And so it falls to me. Homework help is nothing to Devil's Snare and trolls. Plan- a plan we need a plan… What worked? The club, the spell- we need something simple…_

Hermione tried her best to give him a reassuring smile. "Exactly what we did last time. Use its own club like a weapon. One of us plays the distraction; one of us hits it with the club."

Harry just looked at her, then grabbed her and hugged her. "Thank you for being my friend. If we survive, I'll owe you." She hugged him back, and forced herself not to cry.

"Let's go in on three," she suggested, pulling out her wand. "Distraction, or spell-caster?" Darn it all, her hand was shaking. _Not the time, Hermione. Get it together._

Harry considered for a moment, then squared his shoulders and grabbed his wand as well. "Distraction. I have good reflexes and you're the better caster." She nodded, then got behind him as he swung open the door. "One," he said quietly.

"Two," she responded, crossing herself shakily. She had been more or less religious, before she knew she was a witch. It could never hurt, she reasoned.

Harry turned and met her eyes. "Three," he said, then ran into the room, Hermione on his heels. The moment they were past the iron door, it swung shut of its own accord, trapping them inside.

"Hey!" he shouted, waving his arms. "Big, fat, and ugly! Yeah, you!" Harry continued to shout and move, confusing the troll, who stood there for several moments before raising his club.

Hermione took a breath, and opened her eyes, focusing on the wooden club. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she incanted under her breath, hoping not to alert the beast to her presence. Swiftly, the club began to rise out of the troll's hand.

When he saw what was happening, Harry shouted with excitement, further enraging the troll. With a loud roar, he lumbered toward Harry. Hermione noticed this in the back of her mind as she maneuvered the club over the troll's skull. The height of the chamber made it easy for her to lift if high, high enough to knock it out.

With a slash of her wand, she released the spell, allowing the thick length of wood to come crashing down on the skull of the lumbering brute. It landed with a resounding crack, splintering as it split in half and fell to the floor.

She heard Harry give a shout of glee as he ran around the troll to her side. "Look!" he said, pointing, as the troll, weaving unsteadily from side to side, fell to dirt floor with thud. The two of them looked at it, then at each other.

"Blimey," Harry breathed. "It isn't moving, is it?" Hermione shook her head, mute. "Nope? Okay, let's go!" She stood motionless for a moment longer, then followed her best friend. She would stay with him, no matter what.

The door the troll had been guarding opened to reveal a simple room with a stone floor, a wooden table, and several potion vials. As soon as they were both in the room, purple fire sprang forth at their backs and black fire guarded the door at the other end of the room.

Hermione took deep breaths to calm herself, relieved to be free of the awful stench of the troll. They had beaten the troll- they could surely walk through fire. The irony brought a small curl to the side of her mouth. "Well," she said, voice not shaking as much as had thought it would, "Well. We need to figure out what we need to do."

Approaching the table, she found a sheet of parchment with beautiful (familiar?) handwriting spelling out a riddle.

_Danger lies before, while safety lies behind  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf or giant holds death on their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione felt her smile grow stronger, and she laughed outright in relief. Harry stared at her, having finished reading the riddle over her shoulder. Still laughing, she grabbed him and hugged him.

"This is brilliant!" she said, grinning like crazy. "Most wizards haven't an ounce of logic, and they'd be trapped here forever! Snape is bloody brilliant!" For it was obviously Snape's challenge- he was the Potions Master and he did have an amazingly sharp wit. Unfortunately, that wit was usually used to torment his classes of incompetents. And it was his handwriting on the paper.

Harry grinned a little at her excitement. "So you can solve this?" he asked, glancing at the table, where the seven bottles glittered ominously in the colored light of the two fires.

Hermione nodded, already lost in thought. _The second left and the second right are the nettle wine. That means the one on the far left is a poison. The other one, on the right of the nettle wine is the one to go back. That means one of the three in the middle is the one to get to the stone! One of the nettle wine is the biggest bottle, and the smallest bottle isn't the other nettle wine. So the round bottle, the tiny one, is the one to go forward!_

"I got it," she announced. "The one on the far right is the one to go back. The one in the middle, the littlest one, is the one to go forward." They both looked at the smallest bottle, the one with barely a mouthful of glittering potion.

Harry looked at her solemnly. "There's only enough for one. You go back and take care of Ron, and get a message to Dumbledore. I'll go forward."

"But what if Voldemort's there?" she said, desperately wanting to take his place. "What if he's with-"

"Don't worry," Harry said, cutting her off sharply, but with a smile. "I've beaten him once before, I can do it again."

Unable to hold herself back any longer, she threw herself into his arms. "Oh, Harry," she said, a few tears escaping. "You're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," Harry said, embarrassed. Hermione felt a brief annoyance rise inside her, and quelled it. She, if not he, could all but sense the rising evil in the next room, behind the flames. He need, for lack of a better term, a pep talk.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery – oh, Harry – be _careful!_" A sharp spike of fear ran through her body, as she thought of what she was sending her first friend off into.

She handed him the smallest bottle, the one with the potion to go forward. "Here," she said, willing her hand not to tremble. "Go." She grabbed her own bottle, and crossed to her side of the room. "On three?" she offered.

He nodded, guiltily. Hermione knew that he would probably never admit he was terrified. "Yeah. One."

She gave him a brilliant smile, and toasted the small bottle. "Two… bravery!" She got the laugh out of him she wanted.

"Three," he said, and together they uncorked the bottles and swallowed a mouthful. With one more look, they darted through the flames. The freezing cold of the potion battled against the searing heat of the flames before she emerged on the other side, intact. She let out the breath she had been holding.

Hermione ran past the troll, barreling into the chess room. Ron was on the floor, just starting to stir. As soon as he was semi-conscious, Hermione was dragging him along with her through the flying keys. There, she cursed and grabbed a broom. "I hate flying," she muttered, pulling Ron with her back to the Devil's Snare.

It seemed scared of her now, the plant seeming reluctant as it wound around her ankles. With a few slashes of her wand, the bluebell flames were back in the air and the plant was recoiling.

"Come on," she told Ron, who was still groggy, and definitely not liking the fast pace. But he got on the broom, and held on to her waist as they rose up to where the slats of the wooden trapdoor let a few slivers of light peek through. The fear that had left with her new found purpose returned: what if the dog was lying over the trapdoor? Or what if the music trick didn't work?

But the trapdoor gave way, and playing the flute lulled the Cerberus to sleep. Hermione grabbed Harry's cloak from the floor, where it lie forgotten in their rush to save the stone. Ron was starting to walk better now- he was moaning about his head instead of throwing her angry glares.

They ran out of the room into the forbidden third floor corridor- Hermione ordering Ron to go to the Hospital Wing while she went to find Dumbledore.

* * *

"So, Severus," Dumbledore said genially, leaning back in this throne-chair and folding his hands into a thoughtful triangle. "What did you think?"

Severus, slouching in the armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk, glared at the old man. "I think it was very stupid of you. Sir. The children could have died. You precious Boy-Who-Lived could have died!" he spat.

"You're just upset that they thought you were the bad guy," Dumbledore retorted, chuckling. "They were trying to save the Stone from you."

Severus just scowled, and Dumbledore straightened suddenly, eyes growing serious. "But it is done, for better or for worse. Which companion would make the best protector?"

"Miss Granger," Severus answered without hesitation. "She was clever. She did not freeze under pressure. She was brave. She made sure your boy hero's courage did not fail him. She has logic, and she did what needed to be done. She made sure she had a way back." _And I have just damned her. Hopefully, she will be smart enough to say no._

Dumbledore frowned. "Not Ronald Weasley? He and Harry are great friends. He was Harry's first friend, and he makes him laugh." At the Potions Master's raised eyebrow, he sighed, agreeing. "No, no, you are right, my boy. It must be the girl."

Both men looked away, Dumbledore examining the series of silver instruments scattered around his office and Severus casting a longing glance at the cool night outside the tower.

"When shall we start to train her?" asked Snape. "She needs to start young." His mind was going through all the things she would have to learn- hand to hand combat, knife fighting, the art of lying and manipulation, healing, and a wide, wide range of spells, Occlumency, Legilimency.

Dumbledore thought, mind obviously darting far ahead in the future. "Not yet. It seems that Harry is safe for now- he has proven he can handle himself for the time being. I'll make subtle suggestions to her parents. But perhaps once the Weasley boy matures a bit, he will make the better choice." It was obvious to the practiced reader of people that Dumbledore wanted the prettiest picture- Potter one day finding out that his loyal best friend had always more-than-had his back throughout the years, rather than the opposite. Potter would probably be horrified that his female best friend was his so-called protector.

Severus shook his head in despair. "You are making a mistake. If you want a fighter, a protector, then you need to start now. If you want Potter to have a friend, a _child,_ you must not start at all."

* * *

**You've made it through my first chapter- congratulations! And thank you! You know have a general idea of where this story is going. :)**

**Note: No, Severus isn't all lonely tortured soul who is really perfect, just misunderstood. He is a snarky, albeit intelligent, prat. That isn't going to change. However, we do get tortured lonely soul and he really is perfect for Hermione. **

**And speaking of Hermione, she isn't going to be Super!Hermione. Well, she actually is going to be a bit Super!Hermione, but she isn't going to become a sex goddess, or be too perfect. **

**Any questions can be left in a review, although if you have a tumblr, it would be much easier for me to get in contact with you. Mine is on my author's page. Message me, especially if you post SS/HG fanart.**

**Thank you for reading. See you next Friday!**


	2. Chapter 2

**It is Friday, and I have come with a new chapter, as promised! ****  
**

**This is a bit shorter than the last chapter, because not as much _happens_ in the second book, really. **

**Thank you to all my lovely reviewers so many hugs! To the not so lovely one, quite politely, piss off. :)**

_**Chapter 2**_

"This is exactly why Miss Granger is most suited to defending Mr. Potter!" Severus hissed, slamming a copy _The Daily Prophet_ down on the Headmaster's desk. "Mr. Weasley is a danger to the boy. Convincing him to _fly a car _to here from the center of London!" He leaned forward, hands spread on the Headmaster's desk.

When the Headmaster did not refute his statement, Snape cursed and stalked to the end of the room. "The Malfoys are planning something." The night outside was velvety dark, the stars tiny pinpricks of light in the void.

This got Dumbledore's attention. He frowned and motioned Severus to take the seat in front of him. "What have you heard, my boy?"

Severus scowled at the title, chafing at the bonds of loyalty to the manipulative old man before him. "Nothing but sly hints and veiled promises of an interesting year." _And that there was a mysterious case of accidental magic at Potter's house this summer. _"You know how Lucius likes to play with his food before he eats it."

"And what did you think of the results of the exams from last year?" asked Dumbledore, tucking the valuable and troubling information deep into his mind.

Severus snorted out a semblance of a laugh. "Pathetic. I swear they get stupider every year. I blame inbreeding." His eyes narrowed as he leaned against the far wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course that's not what you're interested in."

"You know me too well," Dumbledore mused. From any other man, that would be a joke, or perhaps a reassurance. From Dumbledore, it was a warning. Most didn't know the Headmaster as well as Severus did- they had no clue how much of a manipulative old goat he was. "I want to know what you thought of Miss Granger's test results."

"They are what was expected of the girl," Severus snapped. "Perfect, above perfect, perfect." He shook his head. "She has a love of books," he said, calmer, a thoughtful look taking his harsh features. "It is amazing how she absorbs knowledge like a sponge. She has the makings of a great Potions Mistress, if she shows an interest. Steady hands, a good grasp of Muggle chemistry, and a remarkable memory. Of course," he sneered, "She will probably want to do something pathetic and pointless like trying to save the manticores."

"This makes you angry," Dumbledore observed. "Why?"

Severus scowled at him and snorted. "You sound like a goddamn Muggle shrink," he muttered. "Because _maybe _she could be brilliant."

"And what about Mr. Weasley?" asked Albus. "What were your opinions of his scores?" His bright blue eyes were widened in an attempt to appear innocent; however, Severus had known him far too intimately for far too long to be fooled.

Crossing his arms again and snorting delicately, Severus gave his answer. "If I had not been given the distinct," he paused for emphasis, and drawled his next word with all the sarcasm he deemed fitting. "_Honor_ of having Weasley in my class all year, I would be running ever scan known to man on him, under the assumption that the head wound he sustained last year was far more severe than anyone had realized."

"As eloquent as ever, Severus," Albus said with a shake of his head. "Mr. Weasley's scores were not as-

"Terrible? Embarrassing? Fatal as they could have been?" Severus asked snidely. "Imagine what would have happened if Miss Granger hadn't forced him to study."

"I concede that point," the Headmaster said, nodding his head wisely. "But the past is the past and when can only hope that Mr. Weasley will show more initiative in the future. I needed to ask you about…"

* * *

"Go, my boy. You have rounds tonight," Dumbledore lectured sternly. "Lockhart is not – how did you put it?

"An invertebrate quivering excuse for a human being masquerading as an incompetent milksop of a professor," hissed Severus, real anger on his face for once. "He is wasting a year of time that we could be using to adequately prepare the students for the _war_ that is looming on the horizon."

Dumbledore tucked a lemon drop in his mouth, pressing to his cheek as he considered Severus' point. "He is teaching the students the importance of independent research," the old man said finally. The only answer to the rather lackluster answer was the slam of the door.

Swearing under his breath, Snape swept out of the tower in a raging fury, pale hands clenched and eyes scanning the halls for an unlucky victim. He was rounding near Gryffindor Tower when he heard the sounds of light crying.

He kept close to the walls, making himself invisible as he rounded the corner. He tripped when he saw Hermione Granger, the shock subsiding into reluctant approval when he saw she had her wand pointed somewhere around his chest faster than most seventh years could have. He had no idea if it was luck or skill, but there was a length of wood aimed at his heart nonetheless.

"Who's there!" she demanded, voice shaking, one hand reaching up to wipe her face. "Show yourself."

With a quick swish of his wand, Snape removed the spell. "Ten points from Gryffindor for pointing a wand at a teacher," he drawled, noting the girl's surprise.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said, tremor gone. "Although I must point out I had no idea you were a teacher." He had to stop himself from smirking at her protest.

"That's quite alright, Miss Granger," he said with a malicious smile. "I'll just take another ten points for insolence." His smile grew larger when he saw her blush. "Now would you care to explain why you are out past curfew?"

She shrugged. "I was feeling rebellious, Professor. Rebellious and depressed. And my dorm mates are simply awful when it comes to things like this," she added as almost an afterthought. "I suppose I'm babbling, am I not?"

"Yes, you are," he snapped. "And may I inquire what things?" Severus asked, a dangerous light glinting in his eyes._ If it is really something to be concerned about, Minerva will need to know. _ "Although if you say 'boy troubles,' Miss Granger, I might give you detention for the rest of the year."

He was gratified by her small smile, and immediately scowled to disguise it. "It was my birthday, today," she informed him, crossing her arms. "Not that anyone remembered." A small frown appeared on her face. "I turned thirteen today," she whispered. "It was silly and foolish to sneak out though," she said at normal volume. "What will my punishment be, Professor?"

He looked at her, a strange compassion rising in him. He knew what it was like to be forgotten by everyone. "Getting back to your dorm without being seen," he said sternly. "Consider it your birthday present," he said snidely.

She stared at him in blatant shock. "Yes, Professor," she stammered. She took a few steps, then looked back. "Professor?"

"What?" he snapped. _I do have a limit to my kindnesses, Miss Granger. Don't push your luck._

She flinched, but persevered. "Thank you. And is nonverbal magic easy to learn?" _Curiosity must be etched onto her very bones,_ Severus thought with a scowl.

"You're welcome. And yes, it is very simple for an organized mind," he said, frowning. She nodded and left, disappearing behind a tapestry where he knew a secret passage lay. As soon as he was sure she was gone, he grinned. "And fifteen points to Gryffindor for recognizing a nonverbal incantation," he said under his breath.

* * *

Dumbledore and Snape were once again in the circular office at the top of the highest tower in Hogwarts. This time both were deeply immersed in their ancient tomes, neither paying much attention to the other, except to point out bits and pieces of information they had deemed important.

"It says here that Slytherin's monster was won at great cost and no few deaths," Severus said roughly. "It doesn't say what it was."

"The castle refuses to tell me where the Chamber is," Dumbledore intoned gravely. "It will only reveal Slytherin's secrets to the Heir."

Severus cursed quietly. "The Heir is no one in Slytherin," he said firmly. "Draco Malfoy would be the most likely suspect but for the fact that his bloodline is impeccable, and therefore known by everyone who's anyone. It is too public for any secrets of the sort, and if they were the descendants of Salazar himself, they would shout it from the rooftops. As would any other Slytherin."

The Headmaster nodded, accepting the analysis of his Head of House. "Harry will need to be watched closely," he mused. "Apparently he and his friends were coming back from Sir. Nicholas' Death Day party."

"Of all the stupid things," Severus muttered. "The Granger girl is doing fine in all her classes. The incident on the Quidditch Pitch has had some interesting results, however."

Dumbledore leaned forward, closing the dusty book he had taken from one of his many bookshelves. "Interesting results, you say? Elaborate."

"She has been looking into Wizarding genealogies," he said. "She was surprisingly strong in the face of Malfoy's insult. I'm not quite sure if it is ignorance or self-confidence though," Severus said frowning. "If she was hurt, she hid it well."

* * *

"She stole from me!" Severus raged, face red and hands clenching spasmodically. "She stole the bloody potions ingredients from my own bloody storeroom!"

Dumbledore stared at him, then laughed, a deep belly laugh that neither mocked nor sympathized. "Well, Severus?" he said, wheezing. "What did she steal?"

"Boomslang skin and bicorn horn," Snape muttered. "She's trying to make Polyjuice potion!" It was ambitious, foolhardy, stupid, and incredibly smart.

Of course, the old man just chuckled some more. "She is intelligent. I wonder if she can do it. And where she is doing it."

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," the Potions Master said roughly. "The fumes have discolored Myrtle- it's visible to anyone who knows the potion as well as a Potion's Master. Any more news from your contact in Albania?"

* * *

"What happened?" Severus demanded as he swooped into the Hospital Wing, having rushed from his quarters at Madam Pomfrey's Floo call.

All he could see were the four beds in the corner that housed the victims of the monster, and one other bed on the opposite side of the room that was curtained off. He stalked toward that one, cursing the idiocy of his dunderheaded students. When he reached the curtain, he pulled in back in one smooth motion, pausing only at the sight before him.

Madam Pomfrey was comforting Hermione Granger, who looked at him through yellow, slanted, cat eyes while her tail flicked and the two cat ears growing out of the top of her furry head twitched.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, and shook her head. "Miss Granger refuses to tell me what happened. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley brought her in." Walking away from the bed, she motioned him over, and spoke under her breath. "It's not a Transfiguration accident, and it is not a failed Animagus. She has fur covering most of her body, and the senses of a cat. She has also spoken of a craving for milk and yarn."

From the bed, Hermione spoke. "I can hear you, Madam Pomfrey," she said, still crying. "I shouldn't be able to hear you."

Severus snorted. "I know what's wrong," he said snidely. "I need to ask her some questions and then I think I can brew a potion that will return her to normal, or almost normal." Madam Pomfrey, nodded, then left for her office.

"I'll be in here if you need me," called the Matron. "Miss Granger, cooperate with Professor Snape unless you want a tail for the rest of your life."

When he approached the bed, he saw that she had stopped crying. "What are your questions?" Hermione asked with a watery sigh. "I might not be able to answer them," she said quietly.

"I have plenty of questions," Severus said grumpily. "We have to go over every step of the brewing process of the Polyjuice Potion, a very complex and fragile potion that _no thirteen year old should be attempting_, to figure out where, exactly, you failed. Which should come at no surprise because," he said with a sneer, "You are only thirteen."

Hermione froze. "And why would you say I made Polyjuice Potion?" she asked cautiously.

"Because you stole boomslang skin and bicorn horn from my private storeroom," Severus growled. "I am not called a Potion Master for shits and giggles, Miss Granger."

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "Well. Then you should know I brewed it perfectly, but I put in a cat hair instead of a human hair." When he raised one eyebrow to demand an explanation, she grinned up at him, showing her pointed canines. "You can probably guess who else took some. They were fine- one hour, no problems."

"You are telling me you managed to brew one of the most complicated potions known to Wizard kind as a _thirteen year old?_" Severus asked, incredulous. "How long do the lacewings need to stew?" he questioned.

"Twenty-one days," replied Hermione automatically. "The entire potion took me a month."

"What about the fluxweed?" Snape snapped, still not believing.

Hermione raised one eyebrow at him, and answered. "Picked at the full moon. I brewed it right, Professor. I just put in a cat hair I thought was a human hair."

Severus Snape was astounded. "And yet you are friends with those idiots," he muttered. "Explain to me, Miss Granger, how you gain any intellectual stimulation from your peers." _I had it hard enough and I had Lily._

Hermione smiled sadly. "Why do you think I read all the time?" They looked at each other, cat meeting human. His eyes were so black, so hypnotizing, so compelling that Hermione couldn't look away. But instead of thinking about his eyes, her mind was going to the abandoned bathroom.

No- she didn't want to think about it. With a great pull of her will, she forced her mind to think about something else, anything else. She had the sneaking feeling that she shouldn't be thinking about the bathroom, so she started reciting Theandral's Fourth Principle of Transfiguration.

Suddenly, the Professor broke eye contact, and turned. "I will start brewing the reversal potion, Miss Granger," he said, voice sounding very far away to the girl in the bed. "However, I'm afraid it will take several days to brew, then a few weeks until you are back to normal. Some things may not return entirely, like the limited sight and hearing. I will be able to rid you of the fur, ears, and tail."

"Th-thank you, Professor," she said, stumbling over the words. Her head was pounding, and she felt dizzy. She barely noticed when the Professor left, the door to the Hospital Wing swinging shut.

Instead of returning to the dungeons, Snape almost flew through the corridors of Hogwarts, heading straight for Dumbledore's office. He gave the password to the gargoyles, and waited impatiently as the stairs delivered him to the door.

"Enter," came Dumbledore's voice, before he had a chance to even knock. Severus knew it was because the small portrait on the landing informed him, and so he gave it a world class sneer before striding into the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore looked pleased to see him, smiling broadly and gesturing toward a seat. "Severus! Sit, my boy. What news have you for me/"

"Hermione Granger has a formidable talent for Occlumency," he said in a rush, pacing instead of taking the proffered seat. "She pushed me away from the memory she didn't want me to see. Last year at Halloween, her mind was easily accessible. Now it's…" he stopped, at a loss for words.

Dumbledore sighed, then steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "It seems you have much to tell me, Severus."

"I do," said the pacing man, more energetic than Dumbledore had seen him in months. "Hermione Granger managed to brew a perfect Polyjuice potion in a month, and the only reason she's in the Hospital Wing right now is that she mistook a cat hair for a human hair. Potter and Weasley successfully impersonated two people for an hour," he said with a frown. "Can we expel them?" That would make this day perfect. He noticed that he could not quite keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

"No," Dumbledore said sternly. "In a month, you say? She's only twelve." Both men had sufficient Potions knowledge to know that it should have been impossible.

"Thirteen," Severus corrected. "Her birthday was in September." The correction did not slide under Dumbledore's considerable nose, but was disregarded for the moment.

"And she resisted your attempts at Legilimency?" Dumbledore inquired. "How hard did you push her?" The old man was leaning forward in his throne-like chair, blue eyes boring into Severus' face.

"Middling strength," Severus admitted. "She wouldn't have resisted a full strength attack. But she's completely untrained! At Halloween last year, her mind was open!" _She must have done research on organized minds after our little conversation in September. And she learned that quickly? How? And she shouldn't have known Theandral's Principle either. How much extra reading has this girl been doing?_

"Interesting," Dumbledore said. "I think we should arrange for weekly lessons. How long should she be in the Hospital Wing?"

"At least five weeks," Snape said, almost regretfully. "Mayhaps more." He stopped pacing, and took a seat in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Then it is decided," Dumbledore announced with a decisive nod. "When she leaves the Hospital Wing she should have lessons."

* * *

It was four weeks into Hermione's hospital stay when Severus realized how dull his Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were without Hermione Granger in his classes. They were also far more dangerous, as Longbottom consistently melted every cauldron, blew up every potion, and generally botched anything and everything he possibly could. Without Granger whispering in his ear, he couldn't make valuable ingredients explode fast enough.

When she finally did leave the Hospital Wing, she surprised him completely with her ability to miss more than a month of classes and still be able to answer every question correctly.

"It was like she never left," Severus told Dumbledore the next week. "The only difference is that Potter and Weasley have gotten better grades this week than they have in the last five. That's all."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, and asked, "Do you think she will be a fast learner? Do you think she'll be able to do everything she'll need to do?"

"Yes," Severus answered immediately. "As foolish as she is for associating with those idiots, she is the fastest learner I've ever seen." A thought struck him, and he asked, "Have you ever seen her in her classes?"

"No," Dumbledore said, pondering then nodding. "I should observe all of Harry's classes. It would be good for me to see how he and the Granger girl interact, and how smart they both are. It will not do if she does all his work for him and he never learns."

Severus stood and snorted as he walked to the door. "Of course not," he said. "It wouldn't do for the Boy-Who-Lives to be stupid and lazy. It wouldn't do at all."

* * *

"What the bloody hell does this girl think she is doing?" asked Severus horrified. "Albus! She wants to take _every single extra class _Hogwarts offers!"

Dumbledore frowned deeply, more lines appearing in his old face. "That will be difficult. I can ask Minerva to rearrange the schedule, but that would mean she would have to have one class cut down. We need to turn this to our advantage."

"What would you have done in the past?" asked Severus. "Who was the last person to want to take all the electives?" Would the girl make history? He couldn't think of anyone who had taken all the electives.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not know. Even dear old Tom didn't take Muggle Studies. And he was one of the most brilliant students Hogwarts has ever seen."

Severus shuddered to think of what would have happened if Hermione had not befriended Weasley and Potter. He could see her retreating into her books, with no emotional attachments, prime fodder for the Dark Lord to sway.

* * *

The Hospital Wing was empty but for the petrified victims. Severus entered quietly, and made his way to Hermione's bed. The girl was frozen completely, eyes wide and one hand outstretched as if holding something, and the other was clenched in a fist.

He was curious about the hand in front of her- how did she know to look around the corner with a mirror? Did she know what the monster was?

"If only you could talk, Miss Granger," he murmured softly. "I believe your cleverness has an answer we desperately need."

It would only be three weeks before the Mandrakes would be ready. Three weeks. The good fortune couldn't come soon enough- the dunderhead Fudge had made a grave mistake removing Dumbledore as Headmaster. A grave mistake.

* * *

"You are off now to give the Draught, my boy?" Dumbledore asked his Potions Master. Severus' private lab was always a sight. Three or four potions were bubbling in stasis, a rod or spoon stirring occasionally. The counters, as well as the floor and walls, were made of stone, but kept clean and bright, aside from the shadowy corners for potions that needed to be kept in the dark. There were several large cupboards full of ingredients, and a long row of shelves containing every potion imaginable behind glass and wards.

The Potions Master himself was a sight to behold as he chopped, then dumped the roots and stirred the potion with one hand as he crushed silvery beetles in a mortar with the other. When the beetles were a grey powder, he sprinkled some in the draught as he twitched his other hand and called forth a vial of a suspicious looking red liquid from the end of the table.

"I'm busy," he said tersely, upending the vial in the potion. "It'll be done in twenty seven turns." Severus wasn't even looking at the Headmaster- eyes focused on the color of the potion. However, when the old man opened his mouth to speak again, Severus spoke again. "If I have to hear your voice, I'll lose my concentration and four days' work will have gone to waste," he said, voice in jerky rhythm with his stirs.

Dumbledore, quite wisely, left the lab.

Twenty minutes later, Severus was transporting the Mandrake Restorative Draught to the Hospital Wing, where the five victims lay in their frozen slumber.

"Poppy," he said cordially, handing over the vials to her. "Would you appreciate some assistance?" Madam Pomfrey held a special place in his heart- cold and shriveled as most thought it was. She had been kind to him as a child, healing him when he stumbled into the Hospital Wing with the remnants of whatever torment the Marauders had dreamed up. And later, when he dragged himself there after the tortures of the Dark Lord, she had healed him with no lingering glances at his left arm.

She seemed surprised, but accepted his offer. "Can you take care of Miss Granger and Miss Clearwater?" He nodded, taking two of the vials and making his way over to their beds.

He decided to awake Miss Granger first, setting the vials on the bedside table. He had heard the story from the Headmaster, about how Miss Granger had been the one to figure out the monster was a basilisk. He figured she deserved to be woken first.

Her mouth was closed, so he put his hand under her chin, so it was cupping her face. The warmth felt strange, foreign to a man who had almost no human contact. Her face was so small, so fragile. Slowly, he massaged her jaw until her mouth opened enough for him to pour the potion in. He rubbed her throat, watching her carefully as the color returned to her face, neck, hands, and finally the ankles that poked out from beneath her robes.

"Miss Granger," he said loudly. "Are you awake yet?"

With a startled gasp, she shot forward, eyes frantic, as she heaved and coughed, trying to say something, grabbing his arm and clutching it. Although every instinct told him to pull away, he patted her back awkwardly and gave her water until she could speak.

"It's a basilisk," she rasped, still coughing horribly. "That's Slytherin's monster, it's traveling through the pipes to get around the school."

Severus, now almost used to her surprises, nearly smiled. He had been right. "We know, Miss Granger," he said as reassuringly as he could. "It has been taken care of by Mr. Potter. He found the paper you had in your hand and killed it." He looked down at her, and sneered. "Now if you could kindly release my arm."

She blushed and let go, coughing again. "Sorry," she said. "But did you say _Harry_ killed it?"

"Yes," said the Professor. "He discovered what it was and immediately rushed to tackle it himself. He ended up facing it and a specter of the Dark Lord alone." He couldn't quite keep the derision from his tone, but the girl either didn't take notice, or didn't care.

"Alone!" Hermione squeaked. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, Hermione!" she said under her breath.

"Do you care to explain?" asked Severus curiously. _Is she honestly blaming herself for not being there? Merlin, she is going to play right into Albus' hands. _

Hermione sighed. "I try to make sure every time he rushes of into danger by himself he had either me or Ronald Weasley with him. That way he doesn't get into a situation like that alone." She frowned, and looked up at the stern man who was hated by so much of the school. "Was Ron with him?"

"Yes," Severus said brusquely. "But for the entire story you'll have to ask them. I have another patient. Drink more water and don't try to stand for another ten minutes."

He repeated the process on the Ravenclaw girl who was with Granger when they were attacked, giving her brisk instructions and going to help Madam Pomfrey spray the draught on Sir Nick. As he worked on the ghost, he could hear the two girls talking.

"You saved my life. Thank you. It's Hermione, right?"

"Yes. And thank you for saying thank you."

"How did you figure out what the monster was?"

"I just put all the facts together…" She went on to explain briefly, and he was amazed once more at her logic and memory.

What would Hermione Granger bring to the Wizarding World?

* * *

"She needs to start training immediately," Severus said softly. "She would probably be willing." The was a bitter tone to his voice, as he pictured the girl he had seen that night so soon after school had restarted- the girl who was crying because her friends didn't remember her birthday.

Albus smiled in a decidedly self-satisfied manner, piercing blue eyes pleased. "Good strategic move, Severus," he praised, nodding. "So soon after the near death of her friend Harry Potter when he stumbled into danger all by himself would be the perfect time to humbly ask her to try to protect him."

Severus' lip pulled back in a sneer of disgust. "No," he retorted. "For some reason she seems to genuinely care for the boy. Add to that she's both a Gryffindor, and a naïve child who believes everyone is in need of her aid, and you've got yourself the perfect protector."

"You seem upset," Albus remarked. "Didn't you want a part in her training?"

Severus allowed a nasty grin to spread across his face. "I have a choice in the matter? She needs to learn Occlumency, perhaps some Legilimency, self-defense and defense of another person, knife fighting, dueling, how to lie, act, and manipulate." He let his words hover in the tense air for a moment before openly mocking the Headmaster. "Or I suppose you could teach her the last three. But I doubt you'd want to reveal your hand to someone so near Harry Potter."

Albus' eyes went from genial to icy in a flash, hinting at the danger that lay beneath the guise of an old man. "Do not try my patience, Severus."

"Of course not, Headmaster," he said sarcastically. "Who else would you want to teach the impertinent chit?"

Albus Dumbledore had saved a smirk of his own for that very moment. "Well, I could convince Alastor Moody to train her. And Kingsley Shacklebolt would be delighted to help. And I could teach her Occlumency and Legilimency."

"You would do it wrong," Severus said, surprised at himself but hiding it. "I suppose I will have to help after all. Is Mad-Eye really necessary?" _The old Auror is so paranoid he'd believe his own mother was trying to poison him_, Severus though grumpily.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, smiling happily once more. "I'll approach her in the morning. Can you visit Safe House Three to make sure that all is in order?"

With a sneer and a mock bow, Severus swept out of the room to do his master's bidding.

* * *

**And so ends Chapter Two. **

**Any questions and/or comments can be left in a review, or on tumblr. I really want to know what you're thinking! Also, if you notice any errors in spelling or grammar, let me know! I'm doing my best to catch everything, but I don't have a beta reader.**

**Next update will be next Friday. (I told you all before that I have several chapters of this done- you have no idea how hard it was for me not to update right away. But I want to stick to a manageable schedule, so... once a week.) **

**Have a good weekend!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, readers! **

**Your reviews warm my heart. Thank you to the twenty (gah! There's a lot of you!) who left me encouraging or excited feedback, both on this site and on tumblr!**

**Plenty of you said you were eager for Hermione's training- which is the entirety of this chapter. I did as much research as I could, but of course, if you find something inaccurate, let me know.**

**Enjoy!**

**_Chapter 3_**

"Enter." Dumbledore intoned, pulling a grandfatherly, yet serious smile onto his face. He was wearing unusually subdued robes, doing his best to look the part of earnest, your-wellbeing-is-at-the-front-of-my-mind, grandfatherly Headmaster.

The door creaked open, and the girl walked in. He appraised the way she walked, timid in the face of authority, eyes wide as she took in the magnitude of books and interesting instruments scattered around the room. She was nothing much to look at- a riotous mass of bushy brown curls, a stubborn chin, and intelligent brown eyes. Her current expression was awe- exactly what the Headmaster wanted it to be.

"Miss Granger," he said warmly. "Please, sit. Would you like a lemon drop?" She dropped into the seat he waved at, but shook her head at the candy.

"No, thank you," she said, blushing faintly. "Sugar is quite bad for the teeth." Her blush deepened, and she ducked her head.

The comment stumped Dumbledore for a moment until he remembered that her parents were Muggle tooth-Healers. Well. Normally, his lemon drops were laced with very light traces of a Calming potion, very useful when dealing with distraught teachers and politicians, or even the occasional rowdy student. He had planned…

But he shook off the change in plan, and tucked the candy away. "Do you know why I called you here, Miss Granger?" he asked. He assumed she would say something about test scores or grades, but he was surprised once again.

"Harry," she replied immediately, head rising to meet his eyes. "It has to do with Harry Potter." She looked straight at him, eyes narrowed slightly. "He is my best friend," she said slowly, "Which makes a slight bit of trouble for you."

"Quite the opposite, actually," Dumbledore countered. "But yes, Harry is the reason we are here on this fine morning." _Why would it be a problem for her to be a friend of Harry's?_

Just then, Severus entered the room, as dramatic as ever with his robes billowing and a scowl on his face. "I was _busy,_ Headmaster," he drawled. "But I am here now, so can we please make this quick?" His eyes darted to where Hermione sat, hands folded in her lap and different set on her face- one that Severus recognized as confusion. It was not an expression she wore often, and the fact that she was wearing it now told Severus everything he needed to know about the course of the meeting.

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said with a smile, eyes flashing in a warning. "Just the man I wanted to see. I was just explaining to Miss Granger-"

"You haven't explained anything," Snape snapped. "Or she wouldn't be sitting here, docile as a lamb." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl start with indignation. He sneered.

With a huff, he turned to face her, seeing that she refused to flinch and admiring her for it. "Miss Granger," he said brusquely, "The Headmaster asked you to his office today, not to talk about your…" he let his voice trail off before adding a slight stress to his next word. "_Remarkable_ scores. Indeed, he wants to ask you to put your life in danger by becoming a bodyguard, so to speak, for the walking trouble magnet named Potter."

She looked up at him, then at Dumbledore. "Is that true?" she asked, voice shaking. "What exactly is it you want me to do?"

Dumbledore glared at Severus, before turning his attention to the girl-child and answering her question. "Take extra classes and training over the summer, and when you are back in school. Learn defensive spells and offensive spells that can be used in situations like the ones Mr. Potter has found himself in last year and this year."

"You want me to learn extra magic so I can help Harry more if he gets into trouble?" Hermione asked, relief in her voice. "Of course I'd want to help. I've done what I can so far, but if I can learn more-"

"Don't run into this blind," Snape warned, cutting her off. "What the Headmaster isn't saying is that you will learn other techniques, such as the art of manipulation and lying." His lip curled at the shock on her face. "The Dark Lord is not truly vanquished, Miss Granger," he said smoothly. "Every day, he gets closer to returning. You cannot reveal your status to Potter or Weasley. You must learn how to defend your mind from intrusion, how to fight with or without a wand, and how to protect without seeming to protect. You must sacrifice an extraordinary reputation as to not draw attention to yourself. It is important you know that in defending Potter, you may die."

Fear was plain on Hermione's face, but she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. "But this will help keep Harry safe?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied before Severus had a chance to open his mouth again. "Harry is in constant danger. If you learn these things, and just stay by his side, you can make sure that no one harms our only hope."

Hermione's mouth tilted up in a kind of bitter grin. As out of place as it should have appeared on the face of a thirteen year old, it fit both the girl and the situation. "May I speak frankly, Professor?" she asked.

"Of course," Dumbledore said, fingering his wand under his desk. If she refused, she would be Obliviated. No one else could know about their conversation.

She nodded at Severus, then spoke. "I have the feeling you are feeding me a pile of dragon dung and calling it treacle tart, Professor," she said annoyance dripping into her tone even as her voice wavered. Where she could not see, Severus bit back a laugh. "I'll do it- but, but not because someone needs to defend 'our only hope.' I am always interested in learning more, but to top that, Harry is my best friend. I'd do anything to keep him safe anyway." Even though she stammered through it, she met the Headmaster's icy blue eyes and promptly blushed. "Sir."

Dumbledore's crooked nose had a set to it- it seemed like he was worried he had dangerously misjudged Miss Granger. "Very well," he said at last. "Someone will come to pick you up at your parent's house two days after the break begins. I will need that long to get you special dispensation for you to use a wand outside of the school."

* * *

The remaining days of the break passed far too slowly for Hermione- the gregarious leaner inside her was eagerly waiting the chance to learn new spells. And if she wasn't too excited about the conditioning type things Professor Snape had mentioned, she would put up with it for the chance to learn more magic.

But Hermione Granger was not a stupid girl. There had been a power play going on in that room. She knew that she had arrived there as a chess piece for something larger than she could yet understand- she was there to be manipulated into doing something for someone. She also knew that when she had made an attempt to turn the tables on the Headmaster he had not taken it well. Some of the huge tomes that Hermione had borrowed from the Library for some light reading had mentioned Obliviation. If Professor Snape had not taken her side, well, she feared that she would have woken up in her dorm with a small chunk of her memory missing.

On the last day of term, the scarlet Hogwarts Express arrived in the station with a billow of smoke and a smiling conductor. The compartments were quickly filled, and before Hermione knew it, she was hugging Harry and Ron goodbye. Her parents were waiting for her, off to the side and looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Mum, Dad," she said politely, pasting a smile on her face and pecking her mother on the cheek. They were in the car before either one of her parents spoke.

It was her mother. That was what hurt most. "When will they be coming to take you away?" Mrs. Granger asked, voice unreadable.

"Two days," Hermione replied, forehead creasing. "Did Professor Dumbledore contact you?"

"No," said her father. "An unpleasant man with awful teeth." They just stared ahead at the road, winding unassumingly into the approaching twilight of Great Britain.

_Professor Snape,_ she thought, nodding to herself. "Oh," was all she said. The rest of the drive passed in silence.

* * *

Professor Snape scowled at the plain white door that was currently blocking his way. He rang the doorbell briefly, listening to the charming tone play once inside the house.

The door was answered by a tall man with chestnut hair sprinkled heavily with grey. He looked at Severus blankly, recognition changing his expression for only a moment. "You're here for her?" he questioned.

"Yes," Snape said, stepping into the house when the man stepped inside. "Is she prepared?" The man just nodded.

Hermione appeared on the stairs, pulling down a heavy trunk. Severus stepped forward, catching hold of the handle before it tumbled to the ground and spilled its contents. "If school were in session that would be ten points for clumsiness, Miss Granger," he said silkily. "For the sake of the poor trunk, I will hold it when we Apparate."

She blushed, and nodded. "Do you have your wand, Miss Granger?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Of course," she said. "It's in my trunk." She realized her mistake when the scowl on her Professor's face deepened.

"And that would be fifty," Severus drawled. "For if I was the Dark Wizard that my reputation portrays me as, you and your family would be dead by now, and you would have died helpless and without a fight. Retrieve it." He smirked as she bent down and hastily scrambled in her neat trunk for the precious length of wood, sighing happily when it touched her fingers.

Quickly, she closed the trunk and stood straight, grinning happily. In Muggle clothes, she looked much younger than she usually did. Her bushy hair was gathered back in a strict braid, but errant strands were already creating a halo of wisps around her head. She was at the point when she was just gangly limbs and slowly slimming face.

"I'm ready now, Professor," she said, smile fading as she glanced at her father. Severus followed the direction of her gaze. It seemed that there was some story to be told concerning her parents. He doubted she had been abused, but neglect could be as bad as a beating with some children. He had seen both in all his years as a teacher.

He glared at her. "So be it. We will do this here, as to not attract attention. Have you said your goodbyes?" She nodded, and he offered her his arm. She stared at it, confused.

"You, Miss Granger," he said snidely, "Are too young to Apparate. Even if you did try, you'd probably Splinch yourself. So, I am going to Side-Along you. That requires you holding tightly to my arm. I suggest you do so if you do not want to end up in Dublin."

She gulped and grabbed his arm, waving to her father, who nodded at her. She felt Professor Snape turn, and she was squeezed through a tight steel tube that was compressing her ribs and her hips and her _lungs_ before she was spat out into a pleasant garden.

It was neat and green, with flowers blooming in rows and trellises hanging laden with vines and buds. There was a path, lined with stones and well kept. At the end of the path was a cottage, thatched with golden straw and as charming as a fairytale. Hermione was in love- it was exactly the kind of place she had dreamed of when she read all those fantasy books as a child.

"Come along," Snape snapped, disposition clearly unaffected by the beautiful atmosphere. He took brisk steps toward the cottage, taking her trunk and carrying it with him. "If you keep your mouth open like that flies will soon take residence." She blushed, and followed him. The flowers were beautiful, petals all in vibrant shades of various colors.

They reached the cottage, and Severus raised a fist to knock on the door, knuckles rapping on the wood in a precise pattern. A man's voice came through, rough and wary. "The pass phrase?"

"The phoenix lights the night," drawled Severus. Hermione could detect the annoyance dripping from his voice. "Let me _in_, Moody."

"Not so fast, Death Eater," the voice growled. "Why did Albus call you here?" Hermione looked up at the Professor, wondering where she had heard the word _Death Eater_ before. It unsettled her, sparking a feeling of distrust. Where had she read it?

Severus clenched his fists. "To train the little bodyguard. Let me _in_, Mad-Eye!" Hermione shivered-the look on his face was terrible. But the door opened into a sunlit room full of carefully crafted wooden furniture and pots of flowers.

As they cautiously stepped inside the room, the door swung shut and a grizzled man appeared, limping heavily with his wooden leg and glaring at them with his one normal eye. Hermione had to bite back a gasp of fear when she saw his other eye- swiveling around in the back of his head and returning to stare right at her before returning to the inside of his skull.

"Mad-Eye Moody," Snape drawled, "Meet Hermione Granger."

The man stared at her in blatant shock, collapsing into one of the delicate wooden chairs. "This wee lass is supposed to stop your mates from eating the Boy-Who-Lived alive? Merlin help us all."

Hermione glared right back, justifiably insulted if she did say so herself. "I was asked for a reason," she said, cross. "Do you really think Professor Dumbledore would choose someone inadequate to protect Harry Potter and then tell people about it?"

Moody stared at her for a moment longer, the burst out laughing, although it sounded more like rusty gears grinding "I like her," he said between chortles. "Albus chose well." Then, fixing her with his good eye, he nodded. "And he wouldn't do something stupid like that, either," he said.

"If you are done, we need to get to the real safe house," Severus pointed out. "Where is the passage out of the illusion?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione pout a bit. He had to bite back a smirk- he had noticed her adoration of the idyllic cottage.

"Hold yer hippogriffs, Snape," the man said, rising with some difficulty. "I'm gettin' to it." Hermione watched curiously as Moody hobbled over to a charmingly carved wardrobe and flung open the doors.

"Just walk through," he said. "Muggleborn lass got the idea from a book she read a few years ago. Bloody good one, too."

"_The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe_," Hermione murmured. "Thank you, Mr. Moody," she said with a polite nod. The old man seemed nice enough, even if he had been rude to Professor Snape.

The grizzled old man gave her a predatory grin. "This ain't the last you've seen of me, girlie. I'll be around soon."

"Unfortunately," Snape drawled, inclining his head toward the wardrobe, "We need to be off. After you, Miss Granger." She smiled at Moody, then turned to determinedly walk into the array of furry coats that hung before her.

She moved forward cautiously, one hand held out in front of her, only to hit wood. She panicked, feeling around the smooth expanse for a handle of any sort. A doorknob was her reward; with a flood of relief the endless wardrobe gave way to a lit room.

She stepped forward, looking around curiously. She had emerged from a similar wardrobe, which looked quite out of place in the clean and practical room. The walls and floor were two similar shades of beige, there were no windows, and only one door. The room itself was very tiny, and housed only the wardrobe and a portrait.

From behind her, Severus stepped through the wooden doors carrying her trunk. "Come along, Miss Granger," he snapped.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, casting a wistful glance back at the wardrobe. The cottage?"

Severus scowled. "Don't get too attached, Miss Granger. It was merely an illusion." He strode ahead of her, directly to the portrait.

"Oh," Hermione said, frowning a bit and moving aside.

"Severus Snape and Hermione Granger requesting permission to enter Safe House Three," Severus said, enunciating carefully. The picture was of an old man with a huge belly packed into in a chair, walrus mustache moving with his snores. A red velvet smoking jacket was stretched tightly across his midsection, and a lit cigar was dangling precariously from his fingertips.

He jolted awake, however, when he heard Severus' voice. "Who's there?" he said, eyes darting warily. When he saw Snape, he started again. "Snape. Who's that with you?" The beady little eyes narrowed suspiciously at Hermione, who kept her face calm.

"My ward," Severus said. "Albus should have told you already that we were coming."

The painting nodded reluctantly. "He did." Slowly, the door next to him swung open, revealing a warm, welcoming room, complete with crackling fire and earth-toned armchairs.

Severus strode through the door, snapping, "Come along," when she stalled. She followed, looking at the room in wonder. In one armchair, a sandy haired man was sprawled in sleep, snoozing gently. Hermione looked up at Snape, noting the anger that clouded his features. Snape's impressive nostrils flared, and his lips were in a tight line.

"Wake up, dog," he snapped, rousing the man and earning a reproachful glance from his charge. "Miss Granger, wipe the disapproval from your face- I'm not one of your idiotic boys- and come here." She obeyed his instructions, moving into the light and warmth of the fire. In the back of her mind she wondered why it was so cold in the beginning of June, but she pushed it away.

The man opened tawny eyes, a blinked sleepily up at her, running a hand through his messy hair. His clothes were well-worn and rumpled from sleep, and the dim light from the fire showed Hermione that he had several scars on his face and hands, and that, despite his nap, he sported bruised shadows under his eyes. "Miss Granger, I am Remus Lupin. Delighted to make your acquaintance." He held out a hand, which she accepted and pumped twice.

"Hermione Granger," she said, unnecessarily since he already knew her name. "Likewise."

Snape scoffed in the background. "Mr. Lupin will be teaching you most of what you'll need to know. He will also be joining the _esteemed_ Hogwarts faculty as next year's Defense professor." There was an extra ounce of hatred in his voice when he said that. Hermione remembered someone saying something about Snape hating Lockhart because he had gotten the Defense position. Maybe Snape hated Lupin because he had gotten the job this year?

Uncomfortably aware of the tension between the two men, Hermione smiled tightly. "Lovely," she said cheerily. "Is this where we'll be staying?"

"Just you and me, Miss Granger," Lupin replied, rising from the chair and stretching with an accompaniment of painful sounding cracks. "And Nymphadora Tonks. Severus-"

"I have to return to my other duties," Snape said stiffly. "There is a staff of two house elves and other adults will be stopping in as their busy schedules allow."

Hermione nodded, a slight panic rising from the pit of her belly to her throat. "Will you be stopping in?" Snape, as unsavory as he was, was still the only person she knew here.

"Occasionally," he said. "I must be off. I will see you in two days, Miss Granger." With a sharp nod in her direction and a glare in Lupin's, he spun on his heel and disappeared through the door.

Hermione was left standing with Remus Lupin, eyeing him warily. "Nymphadora Tonks was a seventh year Hufflepuff when I was a first year, if I remember correctly," she said cautiously. "Why is she here?"

"I'm here because I'm an Auror and I need additional training," a cheerful voice said as a shadowy figure emerged from another hallway off the sitting room. "And if I hear you call me Nymphadora ever again I will hex you to pieces in training."

Hermione stared in amazement as the girl's hair changed from bubblegum pink to an electric purple. "What should I call you then?" Hermione asked, feeling more and more out of her depth every second.

"Tonks," the Hufflepuff said confidently. "And I'm a-"

"Metamorphmagus, I know," Hermione said, smiling self-consciously. "Characterized by the ability to change various features swiftly and without the use of a wand or conscious spell."

Remus could hardly hold back his laughter as he watched the girls get to know one another. Tonks offered to demonstrate different noises as she showed Hermione to her room, and the girl gladly accepted. He could hear the sounds of Hermione's giggles grow fainter and fainter until they stopped on the second floor.

"This is your room," Tonks informed Hermione, morphing her nose to a shape more socially acceptable than a pig snout. "Mine is down the hall."

Hermione set her trunk down, and looked around the room. It was on the small side, but it had enough space for her. There was a nice writing desk, a chest of drawers, a bookshelf, a bed, a lamp, and a nightstand all in dark wood. The bed was made with a thick quilt and the tiny window showed sunlight filtering through the heavy branches of a tree.

"This is nice," Hermione said thankfully. "How long have you been here?"

"Almost four days," Tonks replied. "I finished with the first part of my Auror training last month. Then I spent a few weeks with my mum and dad, and came here." Hermione nodded, then pointed her wand at her trunk and whispered a spell. "You can do magic out of school?"

"The Headmaster got me special permission," Hermione said gravely. "Did anyone tell you why I'm going to be training with you?" _I wonder how many people know?_

"Harry Potter," said Tonks. "Apparently he is the strongest trouble magnet of this century. You won't believe how many times Dumbledore swore me to secrecy." Tonks rolled her eyes, a sentiment Hermione shared. "Does he really get into that much trouble?" She had a disbelieving look on her face- from what Hermione could tell, Tonks was doubtful about the validity of the stories about Harry she had heard.

"More," Hermione said wryly. "And because I usually drag myself along to all of his adventures, the Man in the Tower decided that I needed special training to keep us alive." _It's not like I haven't been doing that on my own for the past two years._

"Useful," Tonks said. "I'm going to be a student/teacher/chaperone. So I get to learn plenty and I get to teach you. Win-win for both of us." She nodded at the open trunk. "Do you want help unpacking?"

"I think I know a spell that will do it for me," Hermione said, a bit absentmindedly." I've been dying to try it out." With another swish of her wand, the clothes and books in her trunk flew up, returned to their normal size, then fled to their proper places- except for a few rouge socks that tried to find a place on the bookshelf. Hermione frowned at them, and flicked her wand again.

Tonks watched, impressed. "Wow," she exclaimed, walking over to peer into the closet. "You managed to get them color coded!"

Hermione grinned self-consciously. She liked this Metamorphmagus. "The book said that for the most precision, to keep the wrist stiff."

The conversation continued as the two girls left Hermione's room and walked down to the kitchen for lunch. The rest of the house was simple, dark wood and low ceilings with wooden floors and faded flowered wallpaper. Tonks pointed out the various rooms as they came across them: training room, gym, library, sitting room.

"Welcome to Safe House Three," said Tonks. "I suspect we are somewhere in Iceland. But don't trust me on that."

* * *

By mid-July, Hermione was exhausted, exhilarated, and about three times more deadly than she had been in May.

Alastor Moody had taken her through hell and back in a refitted training room in the depths of the safe house. With the help of fear, study, and repetition, Hermione had managed to learn more than the basics of dueling. Tonks had helped there- as clumsy as she was, the Auror-in-training had an amazing repertoire of spells that she gladly imparted to Hermione. She had yet to beat either of them, but even at thirteen, Hermione was a fast learner who had no qualms about fighting dirty. (Well, at first she had qualms, but Moody had gotten rid of those quickly. Very quickly.)

Moody had also been in charge of physical conditioning- something both Hermione and Tonks had started out detesting. However, while Tonks still hated all the running, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find that she was starting to enjoy exercise. That still didn't mean she jumped with joy when Moody announced the obstacle course or sparring, but she didn't walk into the gym with the fear and queasy anticipation she once did.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, a rising star in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, stopped by every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday to teach martial arts, the clever details of Magical Law Enforcement, and a variety of spells taught mainly to Aurors. As a tall, ebony, and principled man in the Ministry, Kingsley stuck out like a sore thumb. Adding to the fact he had only arrived in England a few years ago, Kinsley was the perfect tutor for the twists and turns of the law in Magical Britain- he saw all the irregularities and was able to explain them to Hermione.

Andromeda Tonks was also a frequent visitor, to both the delight and horror of Tonks- Andromeda was supposed to be teaching them poise, manners, how to lie, and the art of manipulation. According to Tonks, her mother had tried to teach her all these things for years, with no visible success. Hermione however, took to them like a fish to water. She could see how surprised Tonks was at this- but Hermione was a good liar, had some memories of grace- like many other girls her age, she had been forced into ballet for a few years when she was younger. (At least until all the frilly pink tutus vanished mysteriously overnight in a move that _no one_ could blame on Hermione but everyone did anyway.)

Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and the soon-to-be Professor Lupin were all tutoring her in third, fourth, and even fifth year spells, and how to use their fields of study in defense of another person. Lupin had no problem with Hermione guarding Harry- but it was clear to the girl that both McGonagall and Flitwick were there and teaching her under duress. It was not that they did not want to teach her- they were all proud of her progress. It was just that they were loath to see their best student get hurt protecting someone else. But Hermione persevered, nightmares of giant snakes eating Harry giving her all the motivation she needed to defend the cloth dummy with everything she could dream up.

When Hermione had discovered Lupin's lycanthropy, she had been scared for about half an hour before she decided to ask him about it. After a long explanation and discussion, Hermione had privately decided that he was a better man than most, and she didn't care if he turned into a ravening wolf once a month. She was enraged on his behalf when he told her about all the anti-werewolf legislation that had been passed preventing him from procuring employment. Her reaction had endeared her to the professor and after that they spent many evenings playing chess and discussing various discriminatory laws (and fiction books).

But Hermione's favorite teacher- to her surprise- was Snape. Although they spent time on Potions briefly, he was the one who gave her three knives and briskly ordered her to throw them at a target every day until she could consistently hit the target. And once she could hit the target, he charmed it to float in slow random patterns. Then it floated faster, grew smaller, and decided to disappear and reappear randomly. And once she could hit those, he showed her forms to practice every day, evaluating her progress and drawling helpful bits of advice and biting criticism.

Occlumency and, to a lesser extent, Legilimency, were also taught to her by the dour Potions Master. He gave her books, then swooped in once a week at various times, called for a lesson, gave her a moment to steel herself, and then delved into her mind.

She was improving, slowly but surely. Now she could keep him out of her mind for long and longer periods of time, and she could deflect a simple probe quickly. Snape was also teaching her the art of creating fake memories to line the surface of her mental barriers, hiding the barriers under the casual thoughts and memories of a very boring schoolgirl.

Although she had been wary of him at first, after a few weeks she discovered that, outside Hogwarts, Snape was less… nasty. Instead of snapping, he ordered brusquely. Rather than make a cruel joke, he used his wit to make an acerbic _valid_ comment. He was more relaxed as well, and actually asked her opinion on various topics. Over time, she grew bolder with him, making comments of her own. Once or twice, she could have sworn she saw him crack a smile or two before he blinked and it disappeared.

Hermione was flourishing in Safe House Three. She had grown at least an inch, and was becoming rather fit thanks to Moody and Kingsley. Minny and Dobby, the house elf Harry had freed the year before, (Hermione had been very against the entire idea of a house elf until she had, under Snape's snarling directive, talked with both Dobby and Minny for a few hours one rare free afternoon), kept the inhabitants of the house well fed and comfortable.

Hermione was growing to be a rather formidable teenager.

And she liked it.

* * *

"Granger!" barked Moody. "Potter is now dead. Dead. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The old Auror was shouting, but Hermione was more than accustomed to it by now. Her examination of the body of the cloth dummy continued without even a flinch- how had they gotten around her defenses?

Moody had come at her from the front, and Tonks from the side. She had been given a very valuable wall at her back. So how had they gotten to him? She was fine- but the dummy had a daunting hole in the front of his chest. "What spell did you use?"

The next time, she would get it right.

* * *

"Have you been doing the exercises I gave you to keep limber?" asked Snape brusquely, staring down his nose at Hermione.

She nodded. "Yes, sir," she answered. "Once or twice every day."

He considered her for a moment, then shrugged off his black teaching robes that he wore, even in the full heat of summer. Underneath he was wearing a white button down shirt and black slacks. While Hermione tried not to stare (_he wears white?_) he rolled up his sleeves, and from his sheaths somewhere (he was _fast_) he pulled two knives.

"Today, Miss Granger," drawled the Potions Master, a small grin on his face, "We shall spar."

Hermione gulped. "Fight, sir? But-"

"But nothing, Miss Granger," Severus snapped. "Get your knives. Will you be able to move quickly in those clothes?"

Her knives were located in sheaths on the small of her back. She slid them out, feeling their heft in her palms. She could feel the thump of her heart in her ribs, but she tried to push it away. "Yes, sir."

"Very well. Now, for all I've taught you about throwing knives, _never do this in a combat situation._ Why, Miss Granger?" He was stretching, and she followed his lead.

Her first answer felt obvious, but she said it anyway. "Because you lose a knife?"

"Yes. In a high adrenaline situation, you will probably miss. And now you just thrown away your weapon. There are two basic grips when fighting- hammer, which is what you use for slashing and blocking. This other one- no, _here_, Miss Granger- is used for stabbing." He demonstrated both, and she watched carefully. "You can throw knives _only _if you have more than five on you, do you understand? Knife throwing is good from a distance, and if you only have a few people you need to take out."

Hermione nodded her understanding. "How do you actually fight with knives, though?"

He regarded her, in a manner that made her feel as if she had asked a particularly stupid question. _Merlin, I must sound so ridiculous to him._ "First rule: if you only have one knife, keep it in your forward and primary hand. That is not what we will be starting with- although I hope to have you proficient in fighting with two knives as well as with only one knife by the end of the summer. Note that I said _proficient_, Miss Granger, not perfect. This takes time and discipline to learn."

"Of course," she answered automatically.

Snape finished stretched and held out a hand. "Your knives. I'm going to be casting a charm that will effectively create a barrier to dull the knife. I will do this in the beginning, so no one loses anything important. However, as you become more adapt at fighting, I will stop applying the charm. The first thing you must expect in a fight with knives, Miss Granger, is to get cut. This isn't clean and simple- you must learn how to fight on after you have been cut, and we will be practicing scenarios where you have lost essential function in one or more of you limbs."

That made Hermione shiver a bit. "Alright." She accepted her knives, testing the blade gently. Like the professor had said, it was now dull.

"When you fight, do not forget that the knife is not your only weapon," he instructed. "You have legs, elbows, and feet. Use them to try and hit your opponent, to trip them up, to bring them down. Never follow blade with your eyes, especially if you are fighting a witch or wizard. Although knife fighting is not exactly common in the Wizarding World, those who do fight with knives know how to do it, and they also know how to cast a Mesmer over the blade. Blades are shiny, they glint, and are therefore a perfect subject for a Mesmer. You fall into a trance, and your enemy slits your throat."

He stood in front of her, and held up his knives. Hermione copied his position. "What do I watch, then?" she asked.

"Their body, specifically their chest and their shoulders," he told her. "Watch." Slowly he moved his knife in a slashing motion. "My movement is visible in my shoulders and my chest. But you must be careful if they are also fighting you with their legs. To a point, movement of the lower body is evident in the torso." He demonstrated a few different moves. "Now you are going to do form one. I will be your opponent."

The forms consisted of different motions- stepping and slashing, turning and blocking then stabbing. The later ones had kicking and punching as well, but the first was the most basic, fighting only one 'opponent.' Hermione began the motions of the first form, a blocking motion with her right hand.

Severus bore down on her, and she brushed away his knife by knocking his arm away with her forearm. She took a step forward, the next move, and brought her knife down in a diagonal slash. Severus had fluidly moved out of the way, and was now on her right. The next movement was another block, and after that another slash.

"During a real fight, you are not going to want to slash someone as much as stab them," Severus told her, moving away from another slash. "Slashing creates a cut, which makes them bleed. It is an inconvenience, a painful one, but they can fight through it. If you are fighting for someone's life, you want to go in for a kill. Stabbing hurts more, although it takes strength to pull the knife out of stab. When slashing, go for exposed areas."

They went through all the forms that morning, stopping to break at lunch. Hermione was sweating dreadfully, the wisps that had escaped from her braid sticking to her forehead in clumps. She was hot, tired, and frustrated. _I'm pretty bad at this,_ she thought dejectedly. _How am I supposed to learn knife fighting? The forms weren't that hard, but once you have someone you are actually trying to fight…_

Snape, on the other hand, still looked calm and collected. He sipped from a tall glass of water, watching something out the window. "Are you ready to resume, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, sir."

* * *

"How is Miss Granger doing at the Safe House? Are Nymphadora and Remus enough company for her?" Dumbledore asked, walking with Severus through the silent corridors of Hogwarts. The school had no sound but Dumbledore's voice to echo, both men moving almost soundlessly.

Severus sneered, his response to almost all of Dumbledore's questions. "As well as can be expected for a thirteen-year-old training to become a body guard for an imbecile." Dumbledore was quiet for far longer than Severus could stand. He gave in with a harsh exhalation, and elaborated as the Headmaster had clearly been expecting. "She can throw knives with adequate accuracy. I suspect the indefatigable erudite inside the bushy haired chipmunk has transferred adoration of books into a thirst for knowledge of a different sort. She is excelling in all her 'classes.' Mrs. Tonks has trained her to the point that she can lie to my face and I can barely detect it with Legilimency. If she so wished, she could join Draco for dinner at Malfoy Manor and fit in almost perfectly. The werewolf and the other esteemed Professors of this school have advanced her magical training by years. Shacklebolt tells me that she is becoming as wily as a politician but has yet to beat him using her bare hands. I suspect it's due to her size- the girl is tiny, but has yet to learn to use her height to her advantage. She was not as miserable at fighting as I expected. She is improving greatly, and practicing of her own will. The girl has moved on to fighting without prescripted movements, which was terribly difficult for her. She does not do well on her own imagination, although we are working to change that."

The two continued to sit in silence. "Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban, Severus," Albus Dumbledore said finally. "Harry Potter will be in great danger this year."

The curses of the Potions Master would have burned the ears off Sirius Black if the escaped (never convicted) convict had been in hearing range.

* * *

**And so ends Chapter Three. Chapter Four will consist of most of third year- I had to split third year into about a chapter and half. **

**Chapter Four will be up next Friday, as usual. **

**Question: If this story is going to be M later, should I make change the rating now, or leave it at T until it gets to that point?**


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope everyone had a wonderful week! Now that it is Friday, you get a new chapter!**

**Chapter Four takes us through most of Third Year. I'm really glad all you liked the 'training' in Chapter Three! And of course, my deep thanks to those who reviewed and left me lovely comments! **

**In the course of good news, Chapter Sixteen is finished (finally- it's almost 8,000 words, the chapters are getting longer) and Seventeen is started! Progress! I'm well into Part Two. And you are halfway through Part One. **

**Enjoy!**

**_Chapter 4_**

When Severus Snape passed through the painting room into the sitting room of the Safe House, he scowled. It was his natural reaction to hearing the laughter of children, mostly because in his long tenure as Potions Professor, it meant something bad for either him or… him. Usually him.

"Miss Granger," he snapped. "Are you ready to depart?" The girls stopped laughing, the desired response. They were sprawled on the couch, Hermione with her legs thrown over Tonks'.The girls had become good friends over the course of the summer. It seemed that Muggle clothes had been the choice of the day for the two witches, fine under normal circumstances, but not for the situation they were heading into.

Hermione bounced up from the couch, nodding. "Yes, Professor Snape. I'm so excited-"

"No, you are not ready, Miss Granger," Snape drawled, leaning against the wall. "Because we are going to Diagon Alley, and you would stick out like Potter at a Ministry Ball. Go put on some proper robes before we leave the house." The girl blushed and scampered.

Tonks glared up at him from the couch. "Was that really necessary, Professor?"

"Do not try me, Nymphadora," he said, voice dripping with disinterest. "It is my business how I train Miss Granger into the most efficient machine possible, per Albus Dumbledore's orders." The Metamorphmagus quieted.

Hermione appeared a short while later, dressed in her school robes, robes that were an inch short on her. With the help of her friend, she lengthened them, frowning at the hem until it was decent. "Better, Professor?"

"If you want Potter to recognize you," he said again. _I am really getting too much pleasure out of tormenting her via her need to be perfection personified. _"I suggest you alter your appearance in some way, unless, of course, you want to have wasted the time of several busy and important people."

She flushed again, drawing her wand charming her hair straight and blonde, nose shorter, and face fleshier. "Now?"

"Acceptable, Miss Granger," Snape conceded, without telling her it was truly amazing to see a thirteen year old with enough magical control to cast complex identity shielding spells, and succeed. He would have to see how long they would hold for.

It was a swift trip through the illusion of the cottage, Hermione wincing when she experienced the discomfort of Apparition once more. They appeared not far from the Leaky Cauldron, where he stopped her.

"This is your test, so to speak. Harry Potter arrived here last night, after blowing up his aunt." He could see she was about to say something, _probably to lament Potter's stupidity,_ but shot her glare to quench the words in her throat. "So Minister Fudge left him here to wander around Diagon Alley, with Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban and allegedly ready to kill Potter."

Hermione couldn't hold back any more. "Harry blew up his aunt!" she half-whispered-half-screeched. "And the- the imbecile who currently heads our government left him here alone with a deranged murderer after him?" All of Kingsley's stories about Fudge had been less than complimentary.

Severus, uncharacteristically amused, nodded with what could have been a smile. "Are you surprised, Miss Granger?" He watched as she considered the question for a moment.

"No," Hermione said at last, deflating. "I suppose not. From what I've heard about him, Fudge is more than incompetent and corrupt. So what are we doing today?"

"You are going to prove yourself at last," Severus explained. "Harry is going to be wandering around Diagon Alley all day. I want you to follow him without him recognizing you, or figuring out he is being followed. I will be following both of you. If nothing interesting happens, I will make something interesting happen. Understood?"

Hermione nodded, and before she knew it, she was ordering a cup of coffee in the bar of the Leaky Cauldron and waiting for Harry to wake up.

* * *

"How did she do with the new challenges this week?" Albus, of course. He was watching Severus, plainly anticipating a negative answer. "From what her teachers have told me, she gets nervous in such situations far too quickly."

Severus leaned back in his own chair, smug with pride in his student. "She was excellent. She followed Potter discreetly, she found me three out of the four times I changed appearance, and she was able to point out to me another person who was following Potter." _That will give him a minor heart attack. _

As expected, the Headmaster startled. "Someone else was following Harry?" Severus could practically hear the hum of his thoughts pressing out of the masterful brain of Albus Dumbledore.

"Nothing to be concerned about," Severus added, waving a hand casually, smirking at the annoyance Dumbledore was covering up. "Just a _fan_ who wanted an autograph. He was dissuaded."

* * *

"You will come to my office every Tuesday night for your Occlumency lesson, once the term begins again," Severus instructed Hermione, watching with eagle eyes as she prepared a rather complex Draught of Peaceful Slumber. "Three more clockwise stirs," he said with a sigh, picking up a sprig of chamomile, and tossing it in. "You added just a shade too much mugswort. The chamomile and the extra stirs will counter act it, and make it stronger, so you can store it longer."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, committing the fix to memory while she put a stasis charm over her potion and removed it from the heat. "But what about Harry?"

"There is no need for you to worry about that," Severus snapped. "Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall not only rearranged the entire schedule for you, but they also obtained a Time Turner from some contacts in the Department of Mysteries. You will have plenty of time on your hands. I suggest you use it wisely."

Hermione gaped at him, an expression he had been seeing less and less. "A _Time Turner?_ Those are incredibly hard to get-"

"Yes, they are," Snape interrupted. "But nonetheless, you will have one. We shall figure out a schedule for you before we get to school."

* * *

"Harry! Harry!" Ron called, waving Harry over to the table he and Hermione were sitting at. "Over here, Harry!"

The messy haired boy turned in surprise, but quickly recognized both the voice and the family of redheads that surrounded it. He was swarmed with Weasleys before he made his way to Hermione, stopping in his surprise.

Her hair was as curly as ever, if slightly less bushy. As Ron had remarked, she was brown- supposedly from lounging around beaches in France (as opposed to swimming laps in the pool outside the house- not in Iceland as it had turned out- and she had been outdoors plenty) and taller. Ron of course, towered over her, but she was perhaps an eighth of an inch taller than Harry.

She pulled him into a tight hug, a reassurance for her that he was still safe. She knew more details that Ron did for certain, and according to Professor Dumbledore Harry was in almost constant danger- Sirius Black was on the loose. He hugged her back, just as strongly. The two had grown closer after their dangerous journey for the Stone, and it had been the first time he had seen her all summer.

"Have you two gotten all your supplies yet? I need to get…"

* * *

"How has Miss Granger been using her Time Turner?" asked Dumbledore, forgoing even the futile offering of candy in favor of the question hurled at his Potions Master. "We had our monthly meeting in my office earlier and she… feels older than she should."

Severus sighed. He knew that the topic would come up sooner or later, and with the observational powers of the Headmaster he had banked on this discussion happening sooner rather than later. "We figured out a… schedule of sorts for her. The Time Turner can go back about twelve hours, comfortably. So, Miss Granger wakes up, goes through twelve hours of her day, going to all her normal classes that do not overlap, and making sure to avoid the ones that do. She eats, does homework, then 'goes to bed.' Instead of actually going to bed, she turns the clock back twelve hours, goes to a room Minerva has set up for her, and sleeps there. When she wakes about eight or nine hours later, she stays in the room and reads or does homework until twelve hours have passed. Then she leaves, turns back twelve hours, and goes to the overlapping classes. When that day of hers is done, she goes to bed in the dormitory." It was rather ingenious, and it has mostly been Hermione's idea. She had just needed help planning routes to and from her various classes without her selves bumping into each other. Severus had several suggestions- one did not live at Hogwarts for most of their life without leaning about most of the secret passages.

"So she is living two days for every one?" questioned Dumbledore. "She will be more than eight months older than she should be by the end of the year!" He considered this for a moment or two. "Do you think you can ensure she gets extra training over those three or four hours she waits to turn back?" _Always ready to figure out a way to turn things to his advantage. _

Severus nodded slowly, then stood and walked over to the window. "Her childhood is over. Not that she had much of one to begin with."

"Why do you say that, Severus?" asked the Headmaster in surprise. "She is only a child- she is fourteen." Albus stayed in his seat, but turned to consider Severus with clear blue eyes. "Did you see something in her mind? Was she abused as a child?" As sad as it was, abuse was common in children from Muggle families.

"Not as much as she suspects Potter was," Severus snapped, remembering Hermione's memories of conversations with Harry, or of Harry shying away from raised voices or hands. "When were you planning to remove him from that home? Did you know his uncle and cousin beat him and his aunt sets dogs on him? Granger was just left to fend for herself- she became self-sufficient and lonely, and consequently knowledge-hungry and fiercely loyal to her friends. Potter is weak."

"No," Dumbledore said, rising. "Harry Potter is malleable, and loyal to those who show him love and family. His bond to the Light was strengthened when he stayed with the Weasleys last summer. He is starting to think of Molly and Arthur as substitute parents, so to speak. For the first time he can remember, he is being given affection- he has a reason to fight, so try and save the Wizarding world. We have such great potential and such great purpose in this boy, but we need to know exactly what he will do. The Granger girl is useful in protecting him- and your forays into her mind to teach her Occlumency will ensure that, for now at least, we know everything she knows."

* * *

As the Defense Against the Dark Arts class trickled into the staffroom, Hermione clenched her hands into fists. She had a sneaking suspicion that there was something slightly dangerous in the cabinet in the corner. Her guess was some kind of ghoul or ghast.

The room was paneled in dark wood, full of empty mismatched chairs. Well, all the chairs were empty save one- Severus' chair. He was seated in a dark armchair that looked as foreboding as it did comfortable. As the class filed into a semi-circle around the cabinet Lupin had indicated, Snape sneered and stood.

"Leave the door open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this," he drawled, striding to the door with his black robes billowing behind him. He paused at the door, making brief eye contact with Hermione before looking at Lupin once again. "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class has Neville Longbottom in it. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Unless, of course, Miss Granger is whispering in his ear." With a final sneer, he swept out of the room.

Hermione felt a strange shriveling sensation just under her ribs: it was a combination of anger, embarrassment, and- to her surprise- betrayal. _I forgot how mean he can be,_ she thought, frowning. _Poor Neville. I was only trying to help him this morning there was no need- but of course. He's the 'awful' teacher, he's the one who has to be scary. It's just that no one else sees how- well, not nice exactly, but not-so-awful he can be_.

Professor Lupin came to Neville's defense, in a move that made Hermione appreciate the man better. "Actually, I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation. I'm sure he will perform admirably." This was said calmly and kindly- Severus just sneered and left the room.

"Now then," Lupin said, grinning widely. The cabinet emitted a few banging sounds, causing Parvati to jump. "Nothing to worry about- there's a Boggart in there." Apparently, some members of the class did feel this was something to worry about. "Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," the professor explained. "Wardrobes, cabinets, cupboards… I even met one once that lodged itself in a godfather's clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if I might use it to give my third years some practice. But first, we must ask, what is a Boggart?"

Hermione let her hand shoot up- it was practically ingrained instinct by now. She and Professor Snape had spoken over the summer, deciding to construct a 'front' for others to see- in effect, they were trying to control the way the population at Hogwarts would perceive Hermione. No one would suspect a fourteen year old know-it-all to have three knives hidden at various places, or be capable of taking on her entire class in a duel and have a good chance of winning. "It's a shape-shifter," she said primly. "It'll take the shape of whatever it thinks would frighten us the most."

Lupin grinned at her. "I couldn't have put it better myself," he said, and she beamed at him. He continued to explain about the Boggart, but Hermione stopped focusing entirely on what he was saying. She knew what Boggarts were; however, Hermione did not know what her own Boggart was.

This could present a problem- what would the class say if they saw a dead Harry, or a dead Ron on the ground? Or the shadow face that was Lord Voldemort in the scared little corner of her mind, or a giant basilisk with bulbous yellow eyes that appeared in her nightmares every so often? She felt her heart pounding and clenched her hands into fists, letting her fingernails slice into the tender skin of her suddenly damp palms.

_What if it turns into a basilisk and petrifies me again? Harry doesn't have a sword around- oh god. Harry. What if his is a basilisk too? Or- or what if it's Lord Voldemort? He's actually seen the monster, he _can't_ go up against the Boggart. _

It didn't matter- Lupin had already pushed a trembling Neville in front of the cabinet. "On the count of three, Neville," Lupin shouted, rolling up his sleeves and drawing his wand. "One… Two… Three… Now!"

To Hermione's horror, _Professor Snape_ emerged from the cabinet- but it wasn't him exactly. It was more of a subtle caricature- the nose was even longer and had a greater hook, the hair hung down in horribly greasy ropes, and the skin was yellower, more sallow than she had ever seen it on the real professor. The scowl the Boggart was wearing was quite horrific than Snape's worst.

Hermione didn't think it could get worse- and then she saw the man she admired (perhaps the most in the world) dressed in an emerald green dress with a stuffed vulture on his head. There was anger burning inside her, and shame. Anger, for seeing a man she respected treated in that way. Shame, for feeling vindictive after his comment about her and Neville. Hermione turned away- she didn't want to see this anymore.

She forgot about her own problems in the emotion that swept through her- _stupid fourteen year old hormones_- until the professor called Parvati forward and the Boggart turned into a mummy.

Lupin cycled through the rest of the class, and Hermione stuck to Harry's side like a burr. Ron had gone- and now the Boggart was stopping by Harry, who raised his wand.

However, to Hermione's relief, Lupin stepped forward, and the Boggart changed to a silvery orb- a full moon. He took care of it, ending the class by granting points. Hermione caught Harry's look of extreme disappointment- she felt it too. For as sure as she was that she did not want any of her classmates to see her Boggart, Hermione had a burning curiosity to see what was.

While the class was busy chattering away, Hermione found Harry's hand and squeezed it once. He looked at her, and she smiled sadly. "I wanted to see what mine was too," she whispered.

Harry gave her a matching grin. "I'm sure we'll see someday, right?"

* * *

Hermione's wards on the corridors leading to the Fat Lady tripped. She had been eating lightly in a room not far off from where the Gryffindor Common Room was, a breakfast of sorts. Her other self was in the Great Hall, greatly enjoying the Halloween Feast.

Until Sirius Black had attacked the Fat Lady. She was waiting for her wards to alarm her- she was prepared this time. Silently, she crept up to the growling voice, the high pitched soprano that was the Fat Lady refusing entrance, finally turning the corner to the sight of the enraged man slashing the painting.

"Stop!" she cried, running out of her hiding place. "What do you think you're doing?" Suddenly, the man- Sirius Black- stopped at stared at her, then at the painting.

"I- I'm sorry," Black said, panting. "Good God-" He stared at what he had done, then turned his gaze back to her- and the wand she had pointed at his face. "Who are you? I've seen you with Harry, before. You're the girl- the one who is always with him. What's your name?"

"You don't need to know," she said. "But you do need to know that I will not let you hurt him. Harry, I mean." She frowned at him- and let her wand drop an inch. "Why do you want to kill Harry?"

"I don't," said Sirius, sighing regretfully. "I'm sorry about this, too. Nothing personal."

* * *

Hermione woke up in the Hospital Wing, with an angry Snape and Madam Pomfrey nowhere to be found. Her head was pounding uneasily, and she had the sneaking suspicion that if she checked the back of her head, she would find a nasty bump. Crookshanks was by her bed, and when the half-Kneazle saw she was awake, he let out a disapproving yowl.

"I don't suppose you're here to inquire over my health?" she quipped, eyeing Snape cautiously. "When you're yelling, keep in mind that I have a rather painful headache, courtesy of Sirius Black."

She was pleased when she saw one corner of Snape's mouth flick up before he scowled at her again. "You are stupid, Miss Granger," he snapped, considerately keeping his voice to a manageable volume. "Confronting a mountain troll on your own is one thing, but an escaped convict hell bent on murdering Potter?" Crookshanks hissed at one of them, either to defend Hermione or to add his own reprimand to Snape's.

Tightening her fists in the sheets around her, Hermione flinched. "That was the thing, sir. He said he didn't want to kill Harry. And then he-" She paused. She really had no clue what had happened- she had her shield up and she had deflected the first stunner.

"He sent a Stunner, waited until you had a shield up, then used the wall to rebound Stun you," Severus said with a sigh. "Apparently, Miss Granger, you forgot that Sirius Black fought in the first war against the Dark Lord, and, as stupid as he was, he learned a few tricks. You will not do something that foolish again. It was only because I suspected you would do something like this with that Time Turner that I raced through the entire bloody castle to make sure no one found you. And now you need to sleep and I need to patrol. Take an extra day with the Time Turner if you need to."

He stalked off, leaving Hermione to down a Headache Relief Potion and go to sleep.

* * *

"Harry has been sneaking out to Hogsmeade," Hermione told Professor Snape, pacing furiously in her teacher's office. "The bloody idiot knows that Black is after him, and he still sneaks out of the castle. I've been at my wit's end trying to keep him safe. And there is a black dog following him."

"Well, unless Black can turn into a mutt, there is nothing to be concerned about there," Severus said silkily. "And control yourself, Miss Granger. What else have you noticed around the castle?"

With a huff, Hermione collapsed in her chair. "For one, Harry thinks you are trying to poison Remus for what Neville did to the Boggart earlier in the year."

"Nothing new there," remarked the dour man. "Despite saving him from multiple things in the past three years, he still suspects me to be a killer. And to add insult to injury, he says I'd kill the wolf with a poison!"

"Well, why wouldn't you?" asked Hermione, curiosity lighting her bright face. "Why is that an insult? You are a Potions Master after all."_ Lovely,_ Severus though dourly. _Now she'll probably badger me for hours until I've satisfactorily explained._

Severus raised one eyebrow, as if expecting her to know the answer already. "Traditionally, poison is a woman's weapon. In the Wizarding World especially, poison is made, bought, and used primarily by women seeking to rid themselves of men, or cowardly politicians who are afraid to get their hands dirty. While I can and do brew poisons, I prefer to use them as a last resort. And even my poisons aren't the best- most old families pass down instructions along the maternal line, and as a result, most are untraceable. As a male, there are hundreds of poisons I will never know exist, let alone make."

She sat quietly for a while, digesting the information. "Will you teach me how to make poisons you do know? And antidotes? Both seem like useful skills to learn. You know- more subtle than a knife."

"You hardly have anyone that needs killing," replied the Potions Master dourly. "However, this summer, it may be possible for me to work in a few lessons on poisons. Andromeda Tonks, in particular, might have much to teach you in that area. Her mother's family was famous for their use of poisons to kill off wealthy husbands."

* * *

"Professor McGonagall! Professor McGonagall!" Hermione cried out, rushing up the stairs behind her Transfiguration Professor. "Professor McGonagall!"

"Stop that shouting, Miss Granger, and tell me what the problem is," the stern witch declared, halting and turning to respond to Hermione.

Hermione blushed faintly, then stood up straight. "Harry received a present from a mysterious person. A Firebolt- and I'm afraid Sirius Black was the one who sent it."

As she had suspected, McGonagall agreed with her, and decided to confiscate the broomstick as soon as she could get permission from Dumbledore.

Later in the evening, the Head of Gryffindor appeared in the Common Room, and promptly took the broom, despite the protests of Harry and Ron. It was after she left that the two boys turned on Hermione.

"I can't believe you, Hermione!"

"What the bloody hell?"

"Harry needs a broom if we want to have the faintest chance of beating the Slytherins!"

"I need a broom to play Quidditch!"

* * *

"So?" Severus snarked at her. "I have no idea why this upsets you so much. In my opinion, you are much better off without those deadweights. Although, come to think of it, the red haired sidekick is failing my class without your help. If only to make sure I don't need to teach him for more than five years, apologize so you can do his homework for him and get him to fourth year."

Hermione glared at him- she was gradually learning that as far as she was concerned, Severus Snape's bark was about a thousand times worse than his bite- at least where she was concerned. With someone genuinely dangerous, his bite would be deadly. "At least when Harry was talking to me I knew what he was up to. Now I need to Disillusion myself so I can follow him. And I don't do their homework for them. That would be cheating."

"Potter's papers are atrocious. Before they were merely dismal, now they make me want to rip my eyes out. But you can't spend all your time following the boy. What else are you working on?" _I hope, if only for my sanity, Miss Granger makes up with the Wonder Boy soon. If I have to go through another stumbling ink dot that Potter turns in, I will murder the boy before Black gets to him. _

"Buckbeak," Hermione informed him. "I'm helping Hagrid prepare for his trial. Malfoy had no business disrespecting a hippogriff. If he had one iota of-"

"Don't complete that sentence, Miss Granger," Snape warned her. "Draco Malfoy happens to be my godson, and as foolish as he may be sometimes, I am rather fond of him."

Hermione looked torn, but conceded. "Fine. But I am still going to try to prevent them from killing Buckbeak. Everything Kingsley taught me about Magical Law is really coming in handy. In fact…"

* * *

That night, Hermione waited for him in the Common Room. She knew she was disobeying Snape's direct orders, but at this point, she no longer cared.

The portrait hole swung open, and the gaunt man stepped through, taking in the familiar surroundings of the Common Room until his gaze fell on Hermione. "Oh, not you again," he sighed. "Listen-"

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione incanted, petrifying Black where he stood. "No," she said, baring her teeth. "You listen."

She waved her wand, floating him over to the couch. "Now, I know what you are going to do tonight," Hermione said with a sigh, shooting the escapee a nasty look. "But, I have to let it happen anyway. I want you to know that if you harm a single hair on the heads of any boy in that dorm room, I capture you on your way out and give you to Professor Snape." She unfroze his head, allowing him to speak.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sirius said, frowning. He looked healthier than the last time she had seen him, but not by much. It was almost enough to make Hermione feel sorry for him. She stamped that out quickly. Sirius continued speaking. "But-"

"No buts," Hermione said firmly. "For some reason, you said you didn't want to kill Harry. Why? Everyone says that you escaped Azkaban to go after him and 'finish the job.' If you don't want Harry dead, what are you after?"

"Too long a story," Black said. "But don't worry- I don't want Harry dead. I'm his godfather for heaven's sake!"

"Give me an oath that you will not hurt any of the boys in that room," Hermione demanded. "Then I'll let you free. And you are not to talk about this with anyone."

He did so, and soon after he was slinking up the stairs to the Boy's Dormitory as Hermione was sending a message to McGonagall.

* * *

"She punched Draco Malfoy in the face?" asked Dumbledore incredulously. "Merlin, we really are creating a menace disguised as a teenaged girl." _Are you only just realizing this, Headmaster? I've been living with it since this summer and it has only just begun to disturb your sleep?_

"Menace?" hissed Snape, pacing the room, black eyes fiery with anger. "That ubiquitous pedantic _chit_ of a girl had the audacity to _punch_ Draco Malfoy!" _I've told her that the Malfoys are a powerful family. Now she has the hatred of a Pureblood lordling who will do his damn best to make sure she is on the top of the list when the Dark Lord returns to power. _

"Well, this is a good thing, Severus," said the Headmaster, attempting to placate his Potions Master. "We now know that she isn't afraid to use her training. Even if it was at the wrong time and place. And it is beneficial that she has reconciled with Harry and Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, yes," drawled the furious man. "We should just forget about the bodily harm she did my godson, and concentrate on the quarrels of the Boy-Who-Lived and his devoted followers. Now he has made up with his portable personal brain! Just in time for the end of the year exams, lucky for him! And never mind he was never punished for leaving the school to go the Hogsmeade when we are putting up with the bloody useless Dementors to save his craven arse if Black decides to come back here!"

Dumbledore sighed, and reached into a pocket of his rather colorful robes for some candy. "Lemon drop, Severus?"

* * *

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, watching as the black dog she _knew_ had been following them for _months_ now dragged him under the frozen branches of the Whomping Willow. "Let him go!" She lunged for them, only to be pulled back by Harry as the branches started to thrash the air again.

"It's no use, Hermione," Harry said grimly, holding her back from going after the boy. "We need to follow them. Did you see how they- how they paused the tree?"

Hermione nodded absentmindedly, trying to remember what Remus had told her about the tree. "Yes- I think there is a knot at the base of the tree, you press it and the darn plant stops trying to decapitate you." With a flash of inspiration, she grabbed a long branch from the ground and used her wand to lengthen it until she could reach the tree's trunk. "There we go!" she crowed, jabbing the small button. "You go first, Harry, and I'll keep the tree frozen."

He nodded, and ran for the tunnel hidden among the thick and gnarled roots of the tree, making it under the tunnel just before Hermione had to release the stick. "Damn," she cursed, thankful for a moment that she wasn't wearing robes. She would have to duck and dodge for it.

In the end, she made it into the tunnel, sustaining a few scratches from the smaller branches, and painful bruise on her side from one she didn't see that might have broken or bruised a rib. She collapsed on the floor of the tunnel, glaring up at Harry, who was watching her astounded.

"Didn't occur to you to press the button three inches from your hand?" she wheezed. "Thanks, Harry." She was starting to see why Professor Snape thought Harry was a 'dunderhead' and 'not to be trusted with the simplest of tasks or instructions.'

He had the decency to blush from shame, helping her through the tunnel and up the stairs to the Shrieking Shack. Hermione did a quick medical spell Tonks had taught her, binding her ribs, and easing the pain- suddenly she could breathe and walk with much less physical discomfort. However, as they neared the shack, Hermione started to worry about the safety of Harry with a murderer, a werewolf, a secluded area, and a full moon.

"Let me go in front, Harry," she said, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I'm smaller- I want to see what they are doing."

What she saw was an empty room- a dark and decrepit room with smashed furniture littering the ground, long slashes pulling the wallpaper down, and claw-like rips in the couch cushions. It looked, quite literally, like a werewolf had stayed there for a while.

She crept into the room, noting the small whimpering noises above her head. They had to be upstairs, she decided. Hermione waved Harry forward, running quietly across the room to the stairs, treading lightly on the rotten old boards of the ancient staircase.

Ron was lying on the magnificent and dusty four-poster bed, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. His freckles were standing out horribly against the paleness of his face, and Hermione winced when he let out a low moan. "Oh, Ron," she whispered, putting one hand on his clammy face. "Are you alright?"

"No!" cried Ron. "It's a trap, the dog- Hermione, it is a trap!"

"The dog," gasped Hermione, realization dawning on her. "Harry we need to get out of here now, the dog must be an Animagus-" _I can't believe I didn't think of it before._

"Expelliarmus! Right you are, Missy," growled Sirius Black, stepping out of the shadows to catch their wands. His face looked the same way it did when Hermione had seen it in the Gryffindor Common Room, sallow skin stretched tight against his skull, making him look like a demented corpse. He then winked at her, clearly trying to great her like an old friend. "I thought you'd come for your friend," he said, then turned to Harry. "It was something your father might have done- he was brave like that."

"You killed my parents!" shouted Harry, rage trembling through his slight frame. He lunged at Sirius, but was stopped by Hermione and Ron, who grabbed at his shirt weakly before falling back on the bed.

Hermione stepped in front of Harry. "I've told you before, Black," she said calmly. "If you want to kill Harry, you will need to get through me first."

"Me too," added Ron, standing up and swaying queasily. "You'll have to get through me and Hermione before you get to him."

"Lie down," said Black quietly. "You'll damage that leg even more." There was something like regret in his dark eyes, something Hermione recognized.

"Didn't you hear me?" cried Ron. "You'll have to kill all three of us!" But he collapsed on the bed anyway, even more color draining from his face.

Black shook his head, the sympathy disappearing to be replaced with murderous delight. "There will be only one murder tonight," he said, grinning dementedly.

Before she could process what was happening, Harry had broken free of Ron's grasp on his arms and barreled into Sirius, apparently attempting the beat the living hell out of him. Ron was yelling, and she screamed out of pure frustration. She ran forward, desperately struggling to figure out what she was supposed to do. Hermione kicked out at Sirius' head, then stomped on the hand that was holding all the wands, ducking down to grab them.

And then Black released Harry, and punched her in the face, eyes wild. "I've waited too long for this," he rasped, holding her throat and starting to squeeze. Hermione choked, but managed to throw three wands to Harry, keeping her own. She jabbed him in the stomach, then tried to clock him over the head as her vision started to get spotty.

"We're up here!" Ron cried suddenly, and Hermione could make out muffled stomping sounds from the lower floors. Sirius was distracted as well, creating the perfect opportunity for Hermione to break free, gasping and rubbing her throat.

Remus Lupin barged up the stairs, a fanatic gleam in his eye. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, collecting all the wands flew toward him. He looked around, seeing Sirius panting against the wall, Ron lying on the bed, Harry helping Hermione up, and Hermione's bruised face and neck.

"What the hell is happening here?" he asked. "Sirius, where is he?" The Professor was a sight, dressed simply in trousers and an old button down, tawny eyes flashing.

In contrast, Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he did not move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered.

"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "... why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless" - Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, "- unless he was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?"

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded. Then the Professor embraced Black like a brother, as the three teenagers stared in amazement.

"What the hell!" exploded Hermione. "I've been covering up for you this entire time and you've been the one helping him- Remus, how could you do this to yourself? It's a full moon, do you want Harry dead, too? All of us, on your conscience?" At Harry and Ron's confused looks, Hermione sighed, and elaborated. "Lupin is a werewolf. Didn't you see what his Boggart was? A full moon? And the essay Snape assigned us about werewolves? And _tonight is a full moon._" Hermione had to wonder if they had grasped the severity of the situation yet.

Both of the former Marauders sobered, their gaze going up to the wooden roof of the hut. "It is a full moon tonight," Remus agreed softly. "We need to explain and get out of here. And Hermione, has anyone ever told you that you are the brightest witch of your age?"

And explain they did- Sirius explained exactly what had happened on the night the Potters were betrayed, and why he returned to hunt down the rat- Peter Pettigrew in disguise. The story of the Marauders was told- interrupted only by the opening of a door seemingly by itself.

Hermione noticed, and even though she was paying attention to the story with most of her mind, she followed the path of the pair of shoes that occasionally appeared. She recognized that particular pair of shoes- they belonged to one Professor Severus Snape.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "We were in the same year, you know, and we - er - didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field... anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be - er - amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it - if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf - but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life... Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was..."

"That's awful," whispered Hermione. "Sirius Black, you say you didn't murder all those people, and yet you were plotting to kill a classmate when you were only a child?" _Oh god. Oh god. Professor Snape- oh my god. That's why he hates Harry, that's why he hates Lupin. He hates them because Lupin tried to kill him while they were in school- oh god. So much makes sense now. A Quidditch star like James Potter- Chaser, I think- with the power of several 'best friends' behind him… and then the fact that they would have the gall to play a 'prank' like that- they probably bullied him horribly. _Hermione felt sick.

Sirius Black frowned at her, then his eyes darted back to Scabbers, who was cowering in Ron's hands. "I never meant for it to get out of hand. Severus Snape was a budding Death Eater who was too curious for his own good."

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly. "You tried to kill him when you were kids?"

"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin. Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing, directly at Lupin.

* * *

**And so ends Chapter Four.**

**I'm sure you all remember what happens next... so this doesn't really count as a cliffhanger. :) Next Chapter will be up on Friday, as usual.**

**Reviews, of course, are always appreciated. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Friday! Another chapter, as promised. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed (I think I've figured out who the regular reviewers are by now- I love all your long reviews and theories!) and everyone who left me a message on Tumblr. Love to you all. (I'm really hoping to get to 100 with this chapter... fingers crossed!)**

**Also, a BIG thank you to bluefirefly5 for helping me with the French in a very nice review. **

**Chapter Five, in which the Trio escapes from a werewolf, and Dumbledore is manipulative. Also, the Quidditch World Cup. **

_**Chapter 5**_

Hermione didn't know how the night had gone from bad, to worse, to deadly so quickly. Bad was confronting Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack. Worse was having Peter Pettigrew begging for his life at her feet. And deadly was facing a werewolf chained to Pettigrew and Ron, while Professor Snape was moaning quietly on the ground and Harry was standing stock still.

She had to act fast- she shot a reviving spell at Snape, released Ron from his bonds, and was pushing Harry and Ron in front of her. "Run!" she shouted, pulling Snape off the ground and pushing him away too. "Run, go, run!"

Lupin was still transforming, a horrible sight complete with broken screams turning into wolf-like howls. Pettigrew turned to face her, then grinned nastily and shrunk, turning into a rat and scampering into the Forbidden Forest. Hermione wanted to scream her frustration. Sirius had made his transformation, but looked unsure whether to go after Peter or Remus. He chose the werewolf.

"I'm sorry Professor," she whispered, then sent a few spells at the still transforming werewolf before running after her friends and Professor Snape.

The warmth of the spring had faded, creating a cold and utterly terrifying environment. Every breath was raggedly pulled into Hermione's lungs as she pumped her legs as hard as she could. She tried pushing away the fact that there was a _werewolf_ somewhere behind her. The terror was draining- but she felt safer when caught up with Harry and Ron and Snape.

They made it to the lake before the werewolf caught up with them. Harry was trying to help Ron, and Snape was still dazed, stumbling over the uneven ground. It could not get any worse- until it did and _Dementors_ were coming at them from their other side- the one that was not the one the werewolf was coming at them from.

"Harry- a Patronus. Do a Patronus," she croaked, throwing herself between him Ron and the werewolf. "Professor-"

"Get back, girl," he snapped at her, pushing her behind him. "If someone needs to die tonight it will not be you. And the dog seems like it is going to help as well." It was true- Sirius was back and trying to push Remus away.

But even as the werewolf turned and ran for the Forbidden Forest, Sirius changed back, gasping as the Dementors came closer and closer, Harry's wisps of pale smoke doing nothing to scare them off. Hermione pulled out her own wand, trying to think of a happy memory, any memory before…

* * *

"Miss Granger, I think three turns will suffice," Dumbledore said gravely, the face of a man who had just told them Sirius would die and there was no way to overturn his sentence in time. "It is five minutes to midnight, and I am locking the doors now. Good luck."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Professor. We will be back. No one will see us. You said thirteenth window from the right?"

The Headmaster nodded. "And remember that Sirius was not the only one to be unfairly sentenced to death today." He left the Hospital Wing. _Brilliant, _Hermione thought. _Sirius has an escape route now. But that gives us the added complication of rescuing Buckbeak- without being seen. Brilliant. _

In one smooth movement, Hermione pulled the chain from around her neck. "Come here, Harry," she commanded, draping the chain around both their necks when he obeyed. "We are going to take a little trip back in time."

And so they did- following their past selves, waiting until no one was watching Buckbeak to steal the condemned hippogriff, and flying the beast up to the window in Professor Flitwick's office. And in between that, saving the lives of their past selves from the Dementors hell bent on sucking their souls from their bodies.

But the flying part- Harry was enjoying the flying part. He was in his element.

"It's brilliant, Hermione!" he crowed, gripping Buckbeak's feathered neck tightly. "Not as smooth a ride as a broom, of course, but can't you feel his power?"

At this point, Hermione was feeling almost unbearably queasy. "Unfortunately," she groaned. "Let's get this runway to the escaped prisoner and get off it!"

At least Sirius was grateful. When they swooped past the thirteenth window to the right, he was there, just as Dumbledore had said. The expression on his face was desolate, desperate, the face of an innocent man condemned to death.

"Thank the gods," he breathed as the hippogriff landed on the windowsill, heavy wings beating fast to hold it in place as Hermione unlocked the window, allowing him to crawl through and get on the beast behind her.

Then Harry was guiding Buckbeak into a dive, heading toward the Forbidden Forest. "I'm going to die," Hermione moaned, clutching Harry's shirt desperately. "I'm only fourteen years old and I'm going to die."

The man behind her shifted slightly, leaning close to whisper in her ear. Normally, Hermione would have recoiled from the rancid breath- but this time she understood that Sirius as an escaped prisoner and could be excused for poor dental hygiene. "Thank you, Hermione. For before and now. You're bloody brilliant, you are."

"You're welcome," Hermione said, just as quietly, but she had a feeling Sirius heard. He leaned back again, and they landed with a hard thump on the rough ground. "We need to get back," Hermione announced. "Dumbledore is locking us in in about… fifteen minutes."

"Alright," Harry said, "Goodbye, Sirius."

"You truly are your father's son, Harry," said Sirius, scooting up on the hippogriff's back. "I'll see you again. Thank you, Hermione. The best of luck to both of you." With a few mighty beats of his wings, Buckbeak rose into the air. Hermione and Harry were already running back to the castle, looking back over their shoulders to check the progress of the rapidly disappearing black dot that was Sirius and Buckbeak.

They barely made it to the Hospital Wing- Dumbledore was pulling out the key to the door right as Harry and Hermione rounded the corner.

"Did you succeed?" he asked, both of them really, but his eyes were focused on Hermione. "Did you-"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly. "We succeeded. Both of them are safe for now- and no one saw us. We saved our past selves as well. We couldn't get Pettigrew, though."

"Hermione was brilliant!" gasped Harry, grossly out of breath from the sheer amount of running he and Hermione had to do to get back in time. "Sirius and Remus both said so- and we really couldn't get Peter so it wasn't her fault." Compared to him, Hermione was more cool and collected, just a slight sheen of sweat on her brow.

"I would not doubt Miss Granger's intellectual prowess," said Dumbledore cordially. "Indeed, I would wish that both you and Mr. Weasley would follow her fine example in regards to class work. Can I count on better marks next year, Mr. Potter?"

"Of course, sir," Harry said, a curious shade of red blossoming on his already flushed cheeks. Dumbledore chuckled, and held the door open for the two of them. Ron was sleeping peacefully in one bed, and Hermione and Harry made their way over to the other two rumpled ones.

"Goodnight," Harry said quietly.

Hermione sighed, overwhelmed for a moment by the sheer safety of the bed. Under the covers, in bed clothes, no one could get to her. No one was trying to kill anyone. She was _safe._ "Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

"Well?" demanded Severus. "Did Miss Granger prove herself to you?" _Did I train her right? Did she succeed in your eyes?_

Professor Dumbledore was silent for a few moments, seeming much older than his considerable years. "She has proved to me she has a willingness to keep Harry safe. And you were right, she is intelligent. I was expecting her to freeze at some point- recall that all her teachers said she had trouble merging her book intellect and her fighting skills- but she did admirably well. I looked in your mind, and in hers. There was no doubt when she threw herself between him and poor Remus."

"Poor Remus," Severus scoffed, hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he examined the night sky outside the Headmaster's office. "Poor Remus nearly took a chunk out of your boy savior and your precious spy."

"Poor Remus," responded the Headmaster coolly, "has no control over his situation, as he did have 'a chunk' taken out of him when he was four." Severus had no reply but a sneer for that.

After another moment of silence, the Potions Master returned to the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. "She was sharp. She saved my life, and Harry's life. And of course that bloody fool Sirius Black-"

"Sirius Black was innocent, Severus," Dumbledore intoned, folding his hands inside his sleeves. "We were supremely luck that the Dementors did not get to him."

"Lucky?" questioned Severus. "We were pretty damn lucky that Hermione Granger knew how to use a Time Turner and that Lupin can work miracles with a Boggart."

* * *

"Enter," snapped Severus, pushing aside a stack of papers to be graded. Whomever it was, they were disturbing him.

To his surprise, it was Hermione Granger's face peeking around the door to his office. "Is this a bad time, sir?"

"No, come in," he sighed. "Do you have something to report, Miss Granger?" She nodded, but a slight shimmer followed her head.

"Yes, Professor. I-" she faltered at the look on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"Do you have a Glamour on your face, Miss Granger?" he asked, voice dangerously soft.

She looked at him like a pitiful puppy, hanging her head. "Yes, sir."

"And what did I tell you when Moody and Tonks taught you Glamours?" he asked, knowing the answer already. His eyes were daggers, boring into hers.

Hermione's back straightened, and she glared right back at him, defenses around her mind strong. He could not break them without hurting her, so for the moment he withdrew. "You said that they were only to be used if needed. I was not to use them to hide spots or make myself look prettier."

"So remove the Glamour, and let me see what you are hiding, Miss Granger," Snape purred, a viciously smooth demand that he was sure would be followed by a severe reprimand and a cowering girl.

Instead, when she removed the Glamour, it was his infamous self-control that prevented him from doing something that he would regret. Hermione's cheeks and brow were decorated with scratches, courtesy of the Whomping Willow. Her lip was swollen and scabbed over, she had a bruise on one cheekbone, and her neck was clearly imprinted with hand shaped bruises.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, voice trembling with barely concealed rage. _Who hurt her? They would have injuries as well, Moody and Kingsley saw to that- are those hand marks on her neck? Who tried to strangle her?_

Hermione lowered her head, presumably in shame. "Training with Moody, I guess. And the Whomping Willow. And well- Sirius, a bit, but-"

"Sirius as in Sirius Black?" questioned Snape. When she nodded, cursed lightly under his breath. "Tell me what happened, Miss Granger."

"Nothing too bad," Hermione stammered, raising one hand to her neck. "Harry attacked Sirius, so I got in between them- I didn't want Harry to get hurt, after all. I got our wands free, and he aimed a punch at Harry which I took. On my face," she added, quite needlessly, while gesturing toward her cheekbone. "And then he said something and started to try and strangle me. He wasn't really thinking straight at that point-"

"Do _not_ make excuses for the sorry excuse for a man who tried to strangle you, Miss Granger," Severus snapped. "Even you should realize that Sirius Black was trying to kill you. He was worse than I had thought him- attacking a child."

"I'm not a child," Hermione snapped. "I'm fifteen. Almost sixteen by my reckoning." And she looked it, in that moment. Over the year, her hair had gradually de-frizzed to the point where it was merely riotous rather than bushy, and she had gained muscle, and slimmed down from training. She still wore her hair in a relatively childish fashion, to better fit in with her classmates. Severus also noticed that the Glamour she had been wearing had added a certain roundness to her features, and shaved fractions of inches from her height.

Severus inclined his head, then rose abruptly. "Indeed, Miss Granger. Come here." 'Here' was the other side of his office, or more specifically, the antique cabinet that held most of his relatively harmless completed potions. From the cabinet he withdrew Bruise Salve, and Close Cut. "Apply these liberally," he instructed, putting both small jars in her hands. "You should also use them after practice with Moody. He is liable to forget you are breakable."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, accepting the gift. "And the Glamour…"

He frowned at her. "Use it, of course. It is useful. And I will have to talk to Dumbledore- you might not be able to use the Time Turner this summer like we were planning. You can't look that much older than your classmates." He went back to his work. "Was there anything else?"

"No," Hermione answered. _Should I tell him about my Boggart? No. He'll just report it to Dumbledore. No need for them to reassure themselves that I'm dedicated to Harry._ Her Boggart would add a new image to her nightmares- Harry's dead body, Ron's dead body… No. There was no need.

* * *

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, sitting down in the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk and adjusting her skirt.

The Headmaster offered her a lemon drop, and sighed when she declined. "You are much like Severus, my dear."

"You only complement me by saying so," Hermione replied smoothly. "Is there something you needed to tell me?" _The only reason you call me up to this room, Headmaster Dumbledore, is to inform me of something you have decided for my life. _

Dumbledore nodded, not surprised by her observation. He knew it as well as she did- he used people. He accepted that. It was necessary. "Yes. Severus and I spoke, and it was decided that you will use the Time Turner this summer, but you are not to use the it any more than what is necessary this summer. You will spend most of the vacation at Safe House Three, and the rest of the summer at the Weasleys." _It was decided, but I think by you and not by Severus. _

"Leaving no time for my family, correct?" questioned Hermione, internally shaking her head at the Headmaster's reaction. "I thought so."

Dumbledore adopted his 'grandfatherly' face, frowning slightly at Hermione. "It is, of course, your choice, Miss Granger. If you choose to put your familial relationships before further training and the future of the Wizarding world, then that is, of course, your choice." _Like that isn't an obvious guilt trip, old man._

"With choices like that, how could I refuse?" answered Hermione sarcastically. "No, I'll spend it the way you dictated. Safe House Three, Weasleys." _Oh, joy._

* * *

"So, how did Sirius escape?" asked Ron, as the three close friends wandered the grounds by the lake. "I mean, you've hinted you had something to do with it. But what actually happened?"

Hermione shrugged, using the motion to examine their surroundings. She cast a _Muffliato,_ a handy spell Snape had taught her. One could never be too careful. Harry, however, spoke freely, paying no attention to the people who may or may not have been listening.

"Well, Hermione and I got Buckbeak, flew him up to the tower Sirius was in, and let Sirius fly off with Buckbeak. And I did the Patronus that drove away the Dementors by the lake," Harry explained, as if he was trying to make his answer as deliberately unclear as possible.

Ron had a look of total confusion on his face. "How? It's impossible to be in two places at once. I've been telling Hermione that all year, haven't you been listening, mate?" Harry glanced at Hermione guiltily, and she sighed. _I really do wonder why I spend so much time with them, really. _

"I have a Time Turner, Ron," she said finally, tired and slightly annoyed by Harry's glances. "I can be in two places at once. I have been doing it all year to get to all my classes. I figured Sirius was worth a trip through time to save, I guess."

Mouth opening and closing repeatedly, Ron resembled a certain species of fish. In short, he was speechless. Eventually, he was able to gasp out a "Bloody hell, Hermione."

"It shouldn't have been that hard to figure out, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "Even for you." Immediately after she said it, she felt bad. "Sorry. That was mean."

"Yeah," Ron said. "It was." His expression softened, though, and he slung an arm over her shoulders. "Not everyone can be as smart as you are, Hermione."

Harry joined, them, adding another arm as weight on her shoulders. "Yep. Which is why you have to help me next year, to meet Dumbledore's standards."

"And make sure Snape doesn't kill us," Ron added. "He probably ripped up every single one of my essays that you didn't check over." _Probably, _Hermione agreed mentally. _This is why I love them. They act like children, but they are so innocent. So sweet when they want to be. Boys. I hope they aren't all like this or I will never get married._

* * *

"Hermione!" Tonks shouted, running and tripping across the foyer of Safe House Three. "Great to see ya, love!" The Metamorphmagus elongated her eyelashes ridiculously, batting them at Hermione.

"Great to see you too, Tonks," Hermione giggled, hugging the older woman. "How've you been?" It was strangely comforting to be back at the familiarity of the Safe House. The fire was crackling merrily and she could hear one of the house elves working in the kitchen.

Tonks shrugged, changing her hair color automatically. "Fine, fine. Everything's been more hectic at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement since Black escaped, but other than that most of the rest is the same." Tonks considered Hermione critically for a moment, scrunching up her nose before lengthening it to wrench a laugh out of the girl. "Merlin, you've grown."

"Tell me about it," Hermione muttered, letting her hair out of the bun it was fighting. "I'm nearly sixteen now, by the way," she informed Tonks. "Time Turner and all." Dumbledore had let her know that Tonks and Remus had been kept op to date concerning the rather unique situation that was Hermione plus a Time Turner.

Tonks shook her head slowly. "Nice. You certainly filled out, Hermione." She waggled her eyebrows playfully, and Hermione giggled. "Want to meet our new house guest?" It amazed Hermione sometimes, the way Tonks could bounce from subject to subject.

"Sure," Hermione said, laughing. "Just let me put my bags down. Professor Snape didn't come with me all the way here; he dropped me off at the cottage illusion muttering something about not wanting to smell like dog when he left the- how did he put it?- kennel of a Safe House?" Hermione paused for a moment, then giggled again. "I forgot- I can do magic out of school." With a complicated swish, she sent the bags up to her room.

"The house elves can do that, you know," said Tonks, holding up her hands to quiet Hermione. "I know, I know. You don't like making them do things you can do yourself. But still. And I know Snape doesn't like Remus because of his furry little problem, but what does he have against-"

"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected automatically, prompting Tonks to make a face as she opened the door to the kitchen. "And who is our new guest?"

"Sirius Black," Tonks said with relish. "You know, the escaped convict?" The 'escaped convict' himself was sprawled at the counter top with Remus.

"Oi!" Sirius shouted. "I was never given a trial. Make that escaped, never-convicted convict!" Tonks started laughing, and then Sirius noticed the person next to the Metamorphmagus. "Oh, not you again!"

"What's wrong with me?" asked an indignant Hermione, placing her hands on her hips. "You're the one who breaks into Hogwarts to terrorize students with a knife!"

Sirius grinned sheepishly at the glances from the other two people in the room. "Good point," he conceded. "But still. You beat me two out of the three times you've met me before."

"You let this little girl beat you?" asked Tonks, grinning wickedly. "Cousin, I will never let you live this down."

* * *

"I surrender," gasped Moody, glowering up at the point of her wand. "Let me up, there's a good girl."

Hermione gave him her hand, pulling him back up and holding on until he balanced on his wooden leg. "I can't believe I finally-" She was unable to finish the sentence as a result of being flat on her back, Stunned.

"Never help yer enemy," Moody growled. "There's a lesson for you, lass."

* * *

"Prepare yourself, Miss Granger," Snape said silkily, turning his wand over in his hands. The girl in front of him drew in a deep breath and cleared her mind, animated face smoothing into calm. Her eyes opened, serene. "Legilimens," he hissed.

His eyes bored down on hers, a deep rich brown circled by a ring a shade darker, with flecks of gold or green near the iris. His eyes were so grey they appeared black, the iris almost invisible depending on the lighting. Down, deeper and deeper into those warm brown eyes…

And then something gave way and he was inside her head and seeing snippets of thought and memory. He saw her reading in a neat bedroom, eating with her parents, walking the streets of her hometown. But there was a- a flavor to the memories, a something he could barely detect. And so he reached deeper, searching for something.

He hit a slick glass wall, something he would have never found had he not been searching for it. He ran mental hands around it, but they slid right off. Examining the surface for cracks was useless, as was trying to go over or under it. In the end, he had to use brute force.

"Ow," Hermione grumbled, rubbing her temples. "Did you have to go so hard? I'm going to have a headache for the rest of the day."

Smirking, Severus sent his wand back to its holster. "Your defenses need strengthening, as do your doctored surface memories. But, good work, Miss Granger. Here-" he nudged a small bottle of a pale potion at her. "This will alleviate your headache. Tomorrow we start on Legilimency."

Hermione grinned excitedly.

* * *

"This is no fair," exclaimed Hermione, crossing her arms over her chest. "Honestly. Six against one?" _I can get Sirius and Tonks quickly I think- Tripping jinx for her, definitely. Kingsley, if I can get behind him. Remus and Sirius work well together, so split them up. But damn- Moody and Severus at the same bloody time! They're going to wipe the floor with me._

Tonks nodded gleefully, Moody gave her a gruesome grin, Kingsley folded his arms and leaned against the wall lazily, and Sirius let out a short bark of laughter. "Right-o, kiddo. Remus was saying how we need to challenge you more. Six against one sounds about right."

"Fine," Hermione sighed. "See what you'll be saying after I kick your arse." _Gods above help me._

* * *

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered, one hand already reaching into his pocket to tuck away the candy. "I thought not. Any news from Tom's old friends?"

Severus turned to face the window, his usual position. "The Mark grows darker day by day. Rumors abound. Pettigrew had disappeared into the wilds of Albania, Lucius whispers in the Minister's ear, and Azkaban howls with anger. Others have spread out in the Wizarding World, but all of us agree. It darkens." The mere thought of the mark made Severus' arm twitch imperceptibly.

Dumbledore's voice was old and tired when he spoke. "What does that mean, Severus? Is Voldemort rising once more?" Severus frowned- when _that_ name was spoken, his left arm ached for a sudden, gut-clenching moment.

"I don't know, Headmaster," he said finally. "When Potter vanquished him the first time, the Mark faded to a shadow. But now… Now, I fear for Potter's life. Something is in the works this year, and it will not be good for our side. The Dark Lord has been patient, but now he has a servant who will seek him desperately." _This might be the year. We have had thirteen years of peace. A reprieve. Will he believe me? Will it go back to the way it was- revels and death and torture?_

"How goes Miss Granger's training? Will she be able to protect the boy?" asked Dumbledore urgently. The flames in the fireplace flickered in the round office, casting the face of his spy into shadow.

Severus nodded, head barely moving. "After months of training, she can hold her own in a knife fight. I'm beginning to introduce dueling and fighting at the same time. As for normal magical dueling, she beat us, finally. Six against one- although it was a kind of stroke of luck because the damn Metamorphmagus tripped and fell over me. And the time she spends with the mutts reinforces her affection for Potter. They tell her stories about how he was as an infant. Apparently," Severus sneered, "Potter enjoyed hunting the family cat. And he set fires with accidental magic." _Two of the three signs of a psychopath. I wonder if Potter wet the bed as a child? I wonder how much stock Dumbledore would place in 'the power of love' if Potter turned out to be a deranged serial killer?_

"Good, good," Dumbledore said with a sigh, leaning back in his throne-chair. "I will see her at the beginning of the school year. I need to test her defenses. And I think she should make use of the Time Turner again. She can use the extra time to track Harry when she can't be seen. And to train. No one has to know if she has the Time Turner. You did say she was proficient at Glamours?"

The memory of Hermione's bruised face and neck made him scowl. "She is. When will she go to the Weasleys? If my memory serves me, Potter is to arrive in a week."

Dumbledore considered for a moment. "Have her arrive a day or two before him. And tell her to use the Time Turner so she may continue having lessons while she is at the Burrow."

* * *

Hermione flew at the scrap of a boy, squeezing him tightly. Gods, he was thin- Harry definitely needed to eat more and his family seemed determined to slowly starve him to death. He felt so frail in her arms, like a baby bird. But he hugged her back, grinning.

"Have you ever heard of Ton-Tongue Toffees, Hermione?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "Best invention ever."

"I'm glad you think so," Hermione said wryly. "Are you excited about the World Cup?" His eyes lit up, and before she knew it, he was going on and on about the two teams. She just smiled, and allowed herself to be pulled along up the stairs to Ron's room.

She noticed Ginny in the corner, looking up at Harry wistfully. She had been ignored by Harry; the boy had walked in and grabbed her, then Ron. _Poor Ginny,_ Hermione thought, heart aching a bit for the girl. _But she'll have her day soon enough. She has great bone structure and with the Weasley hair and temperament, by the time she's fifteen she'll be able to have any boy she wants._

* * *

"Follow me, Harry," Hermione ordered, grabbing his hand and running. Ron was somewhere on Harry's other side, and she gave a frantic prayer that he wouldn't get hurt. People were running everywhere, panicking and milling around in a riot.

She turned for a moment, to check their backs. Someone was bearing down on them- Malfoy. "They're going to get you, Granger!" he yelled, a flush of pink on his pale cheeks. "Mudbloods come after Muggles, and there are only five Muggles here! When they are done with those, the will come for you!"

"Then tell them they'll regret it!" Hermione shouted back. "If Mommy and Daddy are in those masks, better warn them to steer clear of me!" Her blood was racing hot and cold with the thrill of the chase- except she was the one being chased. _If they catch up with me, they'll be sorry! I am not to be messed with!_

Hermione pulled Harry away, Ron following her lead. They were almost at the forest when Hermione felt the tingle on the back of her neck. She knew that feeling- there was a spell coming their way. She cast a shield quickly, not looking back as they ran into the forest.

The night was dark and humid, with the usual accompaniment of insects and wild life. The trees- they had seemed so friendly the day before- swayed menacingly in the dark, the whisper of their leaves haunting against the distant roar of the crowd.

They were safe for the moment- there were other teens shuffling around in their nightclothes and giving each other nervous looks. A few more were trickling into the clearing- two in particular were alone and desperate, chattering in French.

"Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue..." said one of the girls, wide blue eyes frantic.

Hermione felt a sudden sympathy for her, searching her mind for the remnants of her French lessons. "Vous êtes de Beauxbâtons? Beauxbâtons, l'académie de magie?"

"Oui!" exclaimed the girl, a spark of hope blossoming on her pretty face as she motioned to her friend. "Charlotte! Madame Maxine, elle est une très grande femme..."

"Allez à gauche!" Hermione instructed, pointing the way. "Il y a une grande femme française avec les jeunes filles." The two girls thanked her, and left quickly, nightgowns making them seem like little silver fairies in the darkness.

That made Hermione realize that both Harry and Ron were staring at her, and she herself was in her pajamas. "What?" she asked defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. At least she wasn't wearing a nightgown- tank top and shorts for her, thank you very much. But her arms were getting cold.

"Blimey, Hermione," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "I didn't know you spoke French."

"Well, I do," snapped Hermione. "Vacations in the south of France, remember? And where are your wands? We should go look for Fred and George. We need the light. It looks like they took off to the right when we were separated."

"Yeah, right," Harry said, feeling around his pants, then his jumper. "Wait- I can't find my wand." _How hard is it for you to hold on to a bloody stick!_ screamed Hermione in her head. _I can see what Professor Snape means when he calls you a dunderhead. _

"Then if anyone comes, stay behind me, Harry," said Hermione with a sigh. "And if something happens to me, take my wand." _You've been in worse situations, _Hermione reminded herself. _Two trolls, a basilisk, and a werewolf, remember?_

The wandered deeper into the wood, flinching occasionally when they heard shrieks of fear and bangs from spells. They passed the veela and their admirers, and an escaping Winky. The sight of the poor house elf made Hermione's heart cry out- she hated seeing slavery. At least Dobby was paid, and Minny was accepting a ball of yarn a week. They were happy- and Hermione made sure that they had no problems doing what she asked of them. Winky was miserable.

"We should stop here," Hermione decided after a while, examining the small clearing with the wandlight. "I can't hear screaming anymore, and if we go any further in my tethering spell will get stretched a bit too far for my liking."

"Tethering spell?" asked Ron, blinking slowly. "Sorry, Hermione. Not awake yet. I was having a pretty neat dream about Quidditch though…" Harry nodded as if in agreement.

Hermione just shrugged. "Simple enough, really. I attached a magically tether to the campsite so we could find our way back if we got lost. I don't trust my navigation skills in the dark."

"'Simple enough, really?'" mocked Ron, not unkindly. "Honestly, Hermione. You're bloody brilliant." He had no reservations about showing his awe. Hermione grinned shyly. This was why she loved them. Her boys- She had known them for about five years now. Wonder how the time had flown by.

And then a gravelly voice croaked, "Morsmordre," and a green cloud erupted from behind them, illuminating the sky above with a skull and snake. In the distance, Hermione heard screams of terror, high panicked shouting and the sounds of a human stampede out of the forest.

She had seen this sign in her books. "Dark magic," she breathed, moaning slightly. "Bad, bad magic. Harry, run!" They turned on their heels, attempting to flee the wood. Popping sounds surrounded them, heralding the arrival of twenty or so Ministry wizards. "Duck!" she screamed instead, pulling the two boys down with her.

Ron's feet tangled with Harry's, and because she had linked her arms through Harry's arm, the three of them came tumbling down.

Above their heads, spells clashed with each other, bouncing off, repelling, and hitting trees. Bark flew in several directions, occasionally harming another caster. _Better than our heads,_ Hermione decided. A tree burst into flame in front of her. _Much better. _

"Stop! Stop!" it was Arthur Weasley. "It's my son! It's my son and Harry Potter!" _Of course. Ignore the female. _They stood, Hermione with both her hands holding the boy's shirts. Her muscles were tensed, ready to pull them down again in moments if needed.

The wand around them came down. "Hold fire," commanded a voice. "Let's see what they have to say for themselves."

* * *

**And so ends Chapter Five.**

**Next Friday comes Chapter Six, which covers half of fourth year. How do you think Hermione will react to the fake Moody?**

**Also, I decided to keep this story at a T, because it will be a very long while before anything rated M happens- we still have more than fifteen chapters till that point. Way more. I think. We'll see. (Still stuck on Chapter Seventeen)**

**Have a good week! Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I hope everyone had a good week! Now, because it is FRIDAY you get a new chapter!**

**Many thanks, as always, to the many people who reviewed. (100!) Also, thank you to bluefirefly5 (again) for helping me fix the French. (I fixed it!) I really have my little cadre of regular reviewers who leave such glorious long reviews and I want to squeal because _I'm the author and I know things you don't._ (Like how I'm super excited for Chapter Seven because THINGS HAPPEN)**

**Sorry. I'm excited. May I now present Chapter Six, in which the cliffhanger is resolved exactly the way it happened in the books, and the Trio attends their fourth year at Hogwarts, Moody is... not Moody, and we end at a bit after the Yule Ball.**

**_Chapter 6_**

"It seems that you had an eventful summer, Miss Granger," drawled Severus, leaning back in the comfortable seat behind his desk. "The Quidditch Cup and Death Eaters? How charming."

Hermione laughed, relaxing in her own seat. She flashed her teacher a brilliant smile. "Charming isn't quite the word I'd use, Professor. Those damn Death Eaters are a bloody nuisance. Yourself exempt, of course." It was no secret to Hermione that Severus Snape was a Death Eater- he had explained this briefly to her in order to make her understand the importance of shielding her mind.

The man scowled at her as she laughed. "Impertinent chit," he grumbled, sending her into a fresh wave of giggles. "What is happening with Potter?"

"Well," Hermione started, all traces of mirth gone, "Harry is rather charmed by the prospect of the Triwizard Tournament. He knows he can't enter," she said hastily to reassure Severus, who had straightened alarmingly. "He can dream though. And he can't wait to have class with Moody. Who is probably going to yell at him and then teach him more than Quirrell and Lockhart together," she mused.

"Right you are," Severus agreed with a nod. "Please attempt to convince Mr. Potter that entering this folly of a Tournament would be both stupid and life threatening. Although we would all share a good laugh if he entered and died, I am sure Dumbledore would be peeved."

* * *

They were in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Hermione was numb with fear. This was not the Moody she knew- he would never torture the spiders like that. He would not do it in front of Neville especially- as gruff as the old Auror could be, he didn't have any (well…many) sadistic bones in his body. He had been the one to mentor Frank Longbottom- there was no way he would do something like that to Frank's son. Moody was as tricky and paranoid as they came, but he was not someone who took pleasure in someone else's pain- unless they were Death Eaters, perhaps, but Neville was only a boy!

And now he was going to cast the Imperious on them. _Oh Dear God,_ she thought. _Oh Dear God let my defenses stand. _She stood- hands braced on the desk, shoulders straight. "This is wrong," she said firmly. "As of yet, the Dark Lord has not risen again. There is no benefit to be gained in casting an Unforgivable curse on children." A few of her classmates bristled at the perceived insult, but their rustling in the background did not bother her. Ruffled feathers meant nothing if the chickens escaped the ax.

Moody's face stretched into a bitter semblance of a grin. "You sound like a Death Eater yourself when you talk, missy. You're up first, then. See if you can throw me off." He raised his wand, but with only a fraction of Moody's usual speed. "Imperio."

_Start dancing. Move around. Put your hands up in the air, Miss Granger. _

_But I don't want to._

_Too bad. Do as I say. Dance for me._

_I really don't want to. _

_DANCE!_

_NO!_

_You will dance. Now!_

_No. Get out of my head!_

"Impressive, Miss Granger," Moody said, breathing a shade harder than he had been earlier. For once, both his eyes were focused in one place- unfortunately, that place was her. Hermione felt an urge to cross her arms over her chest. "Where did you learn to defend your mind like that?"_ Moody taught me how to resist the Imperius! And he knows about my lessons with Professor Snape. What happened? Imperioused, Polyjuiced, Oblivated…_

Hermione shrugged, nonchalant as she could be when her mind was racing with possibilities, plots, and plans. "I'm very organized. And stubborn." She could see some of her classmates looking at her in wonder, then nodding when she said she was stubborn. Still, it was almost unheard of for a fourteen-year-old girl to defend herself against one of the Unforgivables.

"Hrmph," Moody grunted, his one good eye telling her he was more than unsatisfied. "Longbottom. You're up next." One by one he went through her classmates, instructing them to do impossible things. Neville back flipped across the room, Seamus imitated various jungle animals, Ron started singing in a very nasal falsetto, and Lavender got down on hands and knees and barked like a dog. It was when she got to Harry that she protested again.

"Professor Moody. Think about-"

"I will think about what I want, Miss Granger. Potter, stand up." Harry shot a look at her, clearly asking her to stay quiet. He wanted his chance to prove himself. And so he did- he wavered back and forth for a few moments before falling forward and hitting his knee on the desk.

"Good, Potter, very good!" cried Moody, thumping his claw foot on the ground. "Again! With all the Dark Wizards out there, you need to be prepared!"

As soon as class was over, Hermione was dragging Harry and Ron out of the classroom by the back of their robes. "Merlin that was brilliant! I wish all the spiders in the world could meet Moody!" Ron was exclaiming, pushing off Hermione's hand. "Blimey, Hermione, what's the matter with you?" _Of course, you don't care that a teacher just used a bloody Unforgivable curse on you, Ron. No matter that he may still be in the minds of one of our classmates, instructing them to act normal until given further instructions, such as to KILL HARRY!_

"He had no right to do that," she seethed. "And Neville! Didn't you see his face when he tortured those spiders?" Guiltily, both Harry and Ron glanced over at their classmate, who was being shepherded into Moody's office. Before Hermione could do anything, the two had disappeared in to the small room.

Harry twisted out of her grasp as well, and she allowed him too, glad that the man (whoever he was), was no longer watching them. _Or he is, with that eye. Good gods. _

"I need to go to the Library," she announced, hefting her heavy bag higher on her small shoulders. "I'll meet the two of you in the Common Room after dinner." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a ripple in the air, the sign of a powerful Disillusionment Charm. Harry would be safe, no matter what happened. She needed to see Professor Snape.

She found him in his office, glowering angrily as he opened the door to her frenzied knocks. "Professor, it's urgent!" she whispered desperately. "It's Moody-"

"What about Moody?" Snape snapped. "He's here, he watching Potter for us like the paranoid little Auror he is. He's also teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts Position. Did I miss anything there, Miss Granger?" She pushed inside, shutting the door.

"Yes, you did," Hermione replied, with just as much snark. "Something's wrong with him. Either he's not the real Moody or somebody erased all his memories of the past two summers." She explained what had happened in her class, citing her reasons for not believing it was Moody.

Severus leaned back in his chair, surveying her with calm black eyes, face expressionless. "I see," was all he said, but at the same time he brushed back his lank hair and massaged his temples. "Well, you have presented me with an interesting situation, Miss Granger. If it is the real Moody, we are in dire trouble. No doubt whoever erased his memories managed to sift through them as well. But if it is a spy- an impersonator- we are in a much better boat."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked fearfully. "I see the obvious benefit- if they are Polyjucing, they need to keep Moody alive. But other than that-" she stopped for a moment, eyes staring straight ahead, mind moving at miles a minute. "I see. We use him to feed false information to the other side. We orchestrate what he sees, so we basically write his reports for him, controlling what he passes on." _Machiavelli's a genius. I knew _The Prince_ would be useful one day. _

Severus gave her a thin lipped smirk. "Exactly, Miss Granger. Finally, a use for your clever brain. Now I ask you- do we give this information to the Headmaster?"

"Not yet," Hermione said, running through various probabilities in her head. "Professor- this could be especially useful for you." _Oh- this could be good. It's half impossible, but if anyone can do the impossible, it's Professor Snape._

"Oh?" Severus asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "In what way, Miss Granger?"

She flashed him a brilliant grin. "If you can pull it off," she began, "Moody will be perfect. Chances are he is feeding information to the Dark Lord- if you can convince him that you are still loyal the Dark Lord, you have someone putting in a good word for you."

Snape snorted at her. "So you are saying don't reveal that I know he's an imposter, but feed him information to give to his master. I have to show a man I'm supposed to think is an Auror that I'm still loyal to the Dark Lord? Keeping in mind I am controlled and calculating enough to never accidently show something like that to an Auror? Do you understand what you're saying, you infernal Gryffindor?"

"Yep," Hermione said cheekily, still grinning. "You are going to be dancing a fine line, Professor. The imposter can't know that you know he's an imposter. You have to treat him like an Auror while showing him you are a Death Eater. You have to show that you're guilty while still playing innocent, and on top of that you have to be very careful he doesn't think you are actually innocent."

Heaving a great sigh, Severus glared at her. "You are annoying little know it all," he told her frankly. "And quite mad."

"If anyone can do it, you can," Hermione said charitably, shrugging off the insults. "You're five times worse than I am."

Severus frowned at her. "And what if the imposter has already been through Moody's memories? And knows about you and your particular function? And more importantly, my role in training you?"

She hadn't thought of that. "What would that mean for you?"

"It would mean that as soon as the Dark Lord rises again, I'm dead unless I can weave a pretty tale," Severus said shortly. "But perhaps Moody's own prejudices can work for me, here. He's never quite believed that I'm loyal to Dumbledore- he would have made a special note of everything I've done in the past thirteen years that would suggest I'm truly a Death Eater, and dismissed all evidence suggesting I'm not."

"And memories aren't perfect!" Hermione exclaimed. "His memory is his perception of things, which is distorted by his prejudices. But I don't think he went through the memories, not yet, anyway. He would have acted more… normal around me, I'm guessing."

* * *

"Good work, Miss Granger," Severus said, panting hard. "Now I see how you managed to put three Aurors and three adult wizards on their backs. By the gods, you're getting fast."

Hermione, also breathing heavily, beamed at him. "I practice, sir." It seemed the long hours of tossing knives at increasingly infuriating targets, then going through the movements taught her by Snape until they _flowed_ paid off. She had still lost though- Severus Snape was not a man to be tangled with.

Their fight had lasted for more than an hour- the first part had been magical, so the walls were showing the spell damage. The last quarter of the time had been when Hermione had lost her wand so she was fighting with a set of magically enhanced knives Snape had produced. They had long hilts, perfect balance, and running through the steel hilt was a wand core.

"It is difficult, but you can filter your magic though these," Snape had told her, showing her how to strap on the sheath. "It is similar to wandless spells, but easier, because of the core. You can guide the magic- but you will need to work on it to make sure your spells are at their usual strength."

Hermione retrieved her wand, standing still for a moment to acknowledge the warmth of the wood. Ollivander was right all those years ago- the wand does choose the wizard and every time she picked up her wand it welcomed her presence.

She returned to where Severus was on the other side of the room, shrugging on his teaching robes over his thinner under robe. Even though it was only September, the castle needed torches and warm fires to bring some comfort to the dungeons. "Thank you, Professor," she said slowly, almost regretfully. She didn't want to hand the knives over- but they were good ones. Probably ones from his own collection.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Granger?" he asked, tone not softening the biting words.

She started, hands pausing on the straps. "Giving you back your knives?"

"They are your knives," he replied, giving her a little sigh. "Silly girl. It is your birthday, is it not?" She squealed, thought about hugging him, then thought again.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. Although I'm technically not fifteen today. I'll be turning seventeen in a month or so." The thought excited her- the trace would be removed, she could learn how to Apparate, and she could be inducted to the Order.

Snape however, just frowned. "Very well, Miss Granger. You should have something else to do now, correct?" He was right- she checked her watch and scampered to an Arithmancy lesson. _She's growing up too fast. She won't be a child for much longer._

* * *

"It's time for me to go," Hermione said with a sigh, casting a quick _Tempus_ in the air. She was still frustrated over the loss of her watch- it hadn't been anything special, but still. On her wrist all the time, until she _needed_ it, looked at her wrist, and found it had disappeared. She needed one to keep up with her schedule and she would have to wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend to buy a new one. "I need to turn back three hours and go to dinner."

Severus nodded gravely, then held up a hand. "A moment, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor?" she asked, hefting her bag higher on her shoulder.

He held out a small box. "Open it," he ordered, looking as nonchalant as he possibly could.

Inside was a delicate silver wristwatch, thin and feminine with three dials on each side and three faces. One was the time- one had the time, one had the date, and the other had a series of symbols that she recognized easily. An small house with a three inside must be Safe House Three. The Hogwarts Crest, Hogwarts. A Potion's vial, Severus' office. A green eye, Harry. A knife, the practice room. A tower, Dumbledore.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed. "Is it-" she hesitated.

He sighed. "Yes, Miss Granger, it is for you. I have personally made it waterproof, fireproof, immune to most potions, unbreakable, unstoppable, resizing to fit your wrist, and able to weather your time shifts. It will heat if I tap one of the symbols on my pocket watch-" he withdrew his fob watch from a pocket in his frock coat. "And that symbol will light. The crest is clearly Hogwarts-" he eyed her. "I suspect you know what all of them mean. I've made them quite obvious to anyone with a brain."

"I believe so, sir," she said, smiling widely. "And if I need to warn you something?"

He gestured to her watch. "Try tapping a symbol, and concentrate on needing aid or assistance," he instructed. "The more desperate you feel, the stronger the watch will- ah. Burn. Careful, Miss Granger."

"Sorry, sir," she said, a bit sheepishly. "I was a little overenthusiastic, I think. This is brilliant, sir. Thank you!"

He gave an expression that might, on another person, have been a responding smile. "You're welcome, Miss Granger. It is tradition to give a witch or wizard a watch when they reach their majority, and as I am the only one who knew about your coming of age…" he let his voice trail off. "Well. Three and a quarter turns, should do it, what with the extra time?" _Well. With that reaction, I doubt she's realized I was the one to Vanish her old watch two days ago._

* * *

"How did this happen!" Hermione shouted, brown eyes flashing madly as she shouted at Snape. "Professor Snape, tell me _how did this happen?_"

Surprisingly, Severus did not take her to task for her tone. "I don't know, Miss Granger," he said wearily.  
"Professor Dumbledore thinks that someone Confunded the Goblet of Fire into thinking that there was a fourth school. Potter would have been the only person to enter for that school."

"He's too young!" Hermione whispered, tears pricking at her eyes. "He may have survived against Voldemort twice, but people have died in this tournament. He won't stand a chance against Krum, or Cedric Diggory. Even Fleur Delacour could be a feasible opponent." She snorted. "She's as much a fairy princess as I am." A small, pale hand came up and took a tear from her cheek. Severus pretended not to notice.

"Then it will be your job to make sure he survives," Severus said simply. "Miss Granger, we are placing the continued survival of the Boy-Who-Lived in your hands. Enjoy it." He reached below his desk, and drew out a bottle of Firewhiskey. "Care for a drink?" _You've turned her into a weapon, no need to turn her into a drunkard as well. Bad idea, Severus._

"No," Hermione responded with a sigh, standing up. "My extra hour is almost up. I need to get back to the Gryffindor party before I'm missed. Goodnight."

In that moment, in the shadows surrounding them, Hermione Granger looked less like a fifteen year old girl and more like the seventeen she had just turned. Severus had never seen her look so weary; through the Glamour she always wore he could see slight bags under her eyes and worry lines. She was too young to have worry lines.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."

* * *

She aimed a kick for his head, mentally cursing as he spun away. On the next one, she caught him in the belly, grinning savagely when she heard the slight grunt of pain he allowed past his lips.

"_I see no difference."_

He seemed surprised by her viciousness that day. She used him as her human punching bag- when she could get to him. Her now-perfect teeth were bared in an angry grin, her tightly braided hair flew behind her, and even though she wasn't using her knives or her wand she felt invincible. Mad as hell, but invincible.

"_I see no difference."_

After a while, he stopped fighting back. He blocked her blows, he stepped aside or ducked when she aimed a kick to his head, but that was all. Finally, she stopped too.

"Why aren't you fighting back?" she growled, body as tight as a bowstring. "Give me a challenge god-damnit!"

"What is the problem, Miss Granger?" he snapped. "Tell me, or allow me to spend my time doing something more important than serve as anger management therapy."

She stared at him for a minute, then turned around to leave, collecting her robe and wand from the bench where she had thrown them. Hermione stalked to the door, and tried to throw it open. It didn't budge.

"On second thought," Severus purred, voice as smooth as honey, "I think you should tell me. I wouldn't want you to go out there so angry you forget to keep a level head."

She whirled to face him. "It was nothing," she spat. He knew differently- their eyes met and in a moment he was through all her defenses. The sudden blinding pain behind her left eye made her stomach roll.

"_I see no difference." His own face smirking slightly at her predicament, his silent laughter louder than the laughter of all the people behind her. _

_She turned on her heel, and ran to the Hospital Wing, crying. _

He immediately felt sick, almost queasy. He didn't like seeing her cry, feeling her abject misery and embarrassment and _disgust_ along with her. "Miss Granger," he said carefully. "I did not mean what I said."

She glared at him, fists clenched at her sides. "You had no right to look in my mind."

"Like it or not, Miss Granger," he hissed, "Not everything revolves around you. I cannot show that I have any interest or personal stakes in your state of mind. Keep in mind that there are two other Death Eaters roaming the school this year. Two other Death Eaters, and five children of Death Eaters that were in that hallway. What do you suppose Lucius Malfoy would say if Draco told his father I punished him for cursing a Muggleborn? Or if word got to the Dark Lord through whoever is impersonating Moody that I escorted you to the Hospital Wing?"

She flushed, tense stance relaxing a fraction. "I didn't think about that," she muttered.

"Obviously," he drawled, crossing the room to gather his own things. "I understand that you felt slighted, today, Miss Granger. But you are seventeen now. Act like it. There are things more important than pride, and as unlikely as it seems, Harry Potter is one of them."

His gaze softened, and unknowingly he allowed a sliver of sorrow to slip through. "Put away your wand and robes. You haven't finished what you started. And if I catch your mind undefended like that again and I will restart the Occlumency lessons."

* * *

"Potter barely survived the First Task," Severus stated flatly, staring grimly at Dumbledore. "As admirable as his performance turned out to be, Miss Granger spent the twelve hours before the Task teaching him the _Summoning Charm_. He would not have lived had it not been for her." _I should give her a salve for those nail marks in her face. Wouldn't want it to scar._

Dumbledore chuckled happily. "Then thank the gods we had to foresight to choose Miss Granger as his protector. And the situation with Mr. Weasley? Did Miss Granger have something to report on that?"

_Always worried about image,_ thought Severus. _Dumbledore needs to be sure that all the staunch Pureblood supporters who are not as unconcerned with bloodlines as they claim still support the Boy-Who-Lived. What better way to do that then have his best friends come from the some of the purest, if poorest, blood in the land? Pure enough to be accepted, poor enough to be controlled with a rigged Ministry drawing. And should Harry Potter spend all his summers around Ginerva Weasley and fall in love with her, what could be better? _"Resolved," was what he said. "He forgave Potter, per your… ah… suggestions." _If that is what you call asking the boy to come up here then planting the idea in his mind. _

"Good, good," was all Dumbledore had to say. "Make sure Miss Granger assists Mr. Potter with solving the riddle for the next Task. It would do him no good to go in unprepared."

"You look lovely tonight," Krum said thickly, offering her his arm. She accepted, thanking him with a blush and a soft smile.

When they passed Harry, Hermione was gratified by the shock on his face. It hurt a bit, to know that he was surprised she looked pretty, but it pleased her all the same. "Wow- Hermione! I- wow!" _He doesn't know his shock is insulting. I'll forgive him._

"Close your mouth, Harry, you'll swallow a bug," she said, laughing. "Did Ron recognize me?" Her hair was up in a delicate twist, courtesy of Lavender, and several bottles of Sleakeazy's. The dress robes she was wearing fit her nicely, periwinkle blue (a bit young for seventeen, but perfect for a fifteen year old) and flowing. She wore very subtle makeup, again, applied with the help of her dorm mate. She had resolved to learn how to do it over the summer- one never knew when one might have to appear sophisticated or seductive.

"No," Harry said, mouth normal again but eyes still large. On his arm, Parvati looked put out, peeved that her date was paying more attention to his friend than to her. "He won't believe it. He's still upset that you turned him down." Harry saw the 'impending doom' look on Hermione face, and hastened to finish his sentence. "I don't agree with him, of course. You are totally a girl."

Parvati giggled, and Krum laughed, while Hermione glared at Harry. _That wasn't something I needed my date to know about, Harry. Thanks. How would you like it if I told Cho about- no. That's mean._

Then McGonagall was ushering the Champions and their companions into the Great Hall, and they entered to soft music, splitting off when they reached the High Table to sit down. Hermione found herself with Krum on one side and Harry on the other.

Dinner progressed smoothly; the food was excellent, the conversation entertaining enough, and the noise level bearable. Hermione spent a short time teaching Viktor how to say her name, and the rest carrying conversations with him and Harry separately. Fleur was having much less luck with her date- Robert Davies was staring at her, drooling slightly out of the corner of his mouth. Cho and Cedric seemed to be having a fine time, much to Harry's annoyance. He glanced over at them more than he looked at Parvati- Hermione actually felt quite bad for suggesting they get together.

The dancing was the part Hermione was the most worried about, unsure about Viktor's dancing skills. She needn't have worried, as he was an excellent dancer. Andromeda Tonks had taught her well, and the two of them were easily the best dancers out of the Champions. Cedric might have had training, but Cho was content to be whirled around in a circle. Davies couldn't quite manage to look at Fleur's face, much less the floor- the poor Frenchwoman was cursing lightly in French as he repeatedly trampled her feet. Harry was hopeless- Hermione vowed to remedy that soon.

"You dance quite vell," Viktor told her, a slight pressure from his hand telling her to go left as he went right. "I am imprevssed."

"Thank you," Hermione said, just as courteously. "I confess I was worried about my feet, but I was pleasantly surprised."

"It is a pity," Viktor said disdainfully. "That the boys you dance vith frequently stomp your delicate feet." The waltz ended there, and soon the dance floor was flooded with people. They continued dancing for at least five more songs before they left the floor, Hermione to find a seat near Harry and Ron while Viktor to fetch them drinks.

Hermione was out of breath, cheeks pink with exertion. "Well?" she asked Harry (who was unaware that his date was staring daggers at his back). "What do you think so far?" She felt a slight pang of guilt- she wasn't paying much attention to the person she was supposed to be 'guarding.' But she managed to shrug it off quickly. _It's not like anyone is going to leap out at him and try and murder him. They have the second and third Tasks for that._

Harry glanced wistfully at the dance floor. "I have no idea how to dance, Mione." Ron just glared at her.

"What's the matter, Ron?" she asked, sighing. She did not want to deal with him right now.

"If you don't know then I'm not going to tell you," the red head sneered. _Like that's not childish at all,_ Hermione thought.

"I'm assuming it has something to do with Viktor Krum since you've been glaring at us all evening," Hermione said quickly, rising from her seat. "For your information, Viktor is not trying to get me to help him with the Tournament. He is not trying to get close to Harry. He likes me and I like him and _that is all._"

"You're fraternizing with the enemy!" Ron yelled. "You're betraying Harry!" His face was growing as red as his hair, a shade of mauve that managed to clash with both his freckles and his dress robes.

"I have no problem with Hermione and Krum," Harry said softly, but Ron paid no attention, as usual. When he flew into a rage, there was no stopping Ronald Weasley. As loyal as he could be, when he got jealous Ron would get _jealous._

"You're a bloody traitor!" shouted Ron, just as Krum returned with the drinks. The internationally renowned Seeker could take in the situation in a minute- and he was not happy.

Even though he was duck-footed on land, or perhaps because of it, Krum was intimidating. He was also three years older than Ron, much taller, and had a glare worthy of Snape. "Herm-own-ninny is not a traitor. Vis Tournament is for international cooperation. I vill not have you insult her for veing more open-minded."

"I'd advise paying more attention to your date than mine, Ronald," Hermione said wearily, accepting the cup of punch Viktor had brought her. "I will not have you ruin the Yule Ball for me. Goodnight." Viktor placed one hand on the small of her back, steering her away. Inside, Hermione was seething with rage, inner thoughts toward Ron scathing at the very least. _He has no idea how much I've sacrificed for Harry. How I've worked so hard for so long to keep him safe. He probably doesn't even remember that I was the one to throw myself between him and Remus. _

She and Viktor danced for a while longer, then Hermione retreated to the sides while he once again left to get them drinks. That was when a contrite Harry approached her, apologizing for Ron.

"He doesn't really mean it," Harry insisted. "He's just jealous."

"Sounds a lot like what I was saying to you a month ago," Hermione retorted sharply. "Sometimes I can't stand him."

"We need you, Mione," Harry said, pleading with her using his captivating green eyes. "Ron will cool down soon enough. We'll make up, and it'll all be like it was before."

Hermione sighed, looking for Viktor in the crowd. He was talking to Dumbledore and Lugo Bagman, and from the expression on his face Hermione could judge that he would be a while with the two of them. "Thanks, Harry. Do you want to go outside and walk around a bit? It's a tad warm in here."

Harry agreed readily enough, and they left the Great Hall for the rose gardens the Hogwarts teachers had brought to life in the middle of winter. They were passing through the gate when Hermione bumped into one of the Beauxbatons girls.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "Pardon." She made to turn away, but something about the girl's innocently pretty face stopped her. _Quidditch Cup_, she remembered in a flash.

"Eet is no-" the girl stopped and looked hard at her. "You are zee girl from zee Quidditch World Cup. You 'elped me find Madame Maxine." Hermione nodded eagerly- yes this was the same girl, she remembered the curly hair and freckles.

"My name is Hermione Granger," Hermione said with a smile, offering her hand. "This is Harry Potter."

"Pleased to meet you," the girl said. "My name is Charlotte Baudoin. Zank you for what you did zat night. We were so terrified- and Madame was right where you said she was."

The two girls talked for a bit longer, promising to getting to know each other better after the ball. Then Hermione and Harry left for the snowy gardens and Charlotte for the music and the dancing.

"Where's Parvati?" asked Hermione after a moment, frowning. The small Indian girl had not been with Harry when the two of them decided to go out.

Harry shrugged, looking for pockets to stuff his hands into, but finding none on his dress robes. "She's dancing with some guy from Beauxbatons. I was really a pretty bad date."

_Yes,_ Hermione agreed silently. "Oh, Harry. You needed to pay more attention to her. She wants to tell her grandkids that she spent the night on the arm of Harry Potter, not that Harry Potter ignored her for the entire dance. How many songs did you dance with her?"

"One," Harry said guiltily, ducking his head. "The first one." Hermione took his arm with a sigh, and led him over to one of the benches. Along the way they passed Fleur and an ardent Roger Davies, so with a huff of disgust Hermione passed a few more benches before choosing one.

She swept a small beetle off the seat into the grass, then used her wand to clear away the snow on the bench. "There," she pronounced, satisfied. She and Harry sat down, and she cast a small warming charm on the two of them. "Alright. Harry. You should go in there and apologize if you don't want Parvati to ignore you for the rest of the time we are in Hogwarts. Because she and Lavender are gossips, and Harry, if you ever want to get a date in this school again you need to go say sorry."

Harry slouched down in his seat, hair flopping into his eyes. "Why are girls so bloody confusing? I think that's why Ron didn't realize it sooner, Hermione. You don't _act_ like a girl." He threw his arms up in frustration. "Why can't I just hang around you? Or better yet, why can't you write a- a guidebook for girls! There is only one girl I really want to date, after all." He gave her a look, which Hermione correctly translated to read, _Cho Chang._

Laughing, Hermione patted his arm, brushing away a beetle. "I know. But… I can't-"

"I know," Harry said, sighing and leaning his head against the cold stone of the castle. "You can't do anything. At least you're always there, Mione," Harry said, standing up, and giving her a hand. "Best friends, then?"

"Best friends," Hermione agreed, giving him a hug. They walked back to the Great Hall, hands swinging- nothing romantic. Hermione was determined to make Harry more comfortable with touching other people (his awful relatives, beating him like that!) and she was fine with grabbing his hand. It was a feeling of safety for both of them.

"And who knows, Harry," she said, as they paused outside the door. "Maybe Cho will come around next year. Cedric will be gone, after all. And not many girls can resist the Boy-Who-Lived."

* * *

The first Potions class back was an experience Hermione never wanted to even think about ever again.

"What's this?" Snape asked, swooping in the grab the newspaper from her hands. "Hermione Granger denies the affection of Harry Potter for Viktor Krum?" His voice had a hint of incredulous disbelief as he read the headline aloud.

"A piece of trash," Hermione said firmly, hands shaking below the desk. "Rubbish. Drivel by Rita Skeeter."

Nonetheless, Severus Snape humiliated both Harry and Hermione by reading the paper aloud, pausing after each sentence to give the Slytherins an opportunity to laugh.

"Miss Granger, fifteen, accompanied Durmstrang Champion and Bulgarian Quidditch star Viktor Krum, eighteen, to the Yule Ball, a Triwizard Tournament tradition." Derisive laughter. "The Champion is said to be 'enamored' with Miss Granger, but he is not the only Champion with his heart in Miss Granger's hand." More laugher. "Harry Potter, fourteen, our own Hogwarts Champion and Boy-Who-Lived, was seen having an intimate conversation with Miss Granger at the Yule Ball, where he was reported to have told Miss Granger there was only one person he wanted to date." Laughter, aimed at Harry, who was turning red. "Miss Granger refused him, but they parted as friends, with a promise of 'one day,' and they held hands as they left the rose gardens." At this, Ron turned and stared at the two of them. "According to several other students, Harry Potter and Miss Granger are never far from the other, and 'the entire school has been wondering when they would get together.'" Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then turned away. Hermione knew she was bright red.

Snape finished the story, which ended with speculation on Rita's part on whether or not Hermione would find herself with Viktor or Harry. "What a perfect little love triangle," Severus spat when he finished reading the paper. "However, Potions class is not the place to speculate on your love life, Miss Granger." _Could have fooled me,_ Hermione thought angrily. _Reading that piece of trash aloud in here. _"Please take a seat next to Mr. Malfoy- I don't want to find you and Mr. Potter holding hands when you need to be stirring your potion."

Blushing fiercely, Hermione gathered her supplies and moved. _He's just pretending to be a Death Eater. He's just pretending._

* * *

Later that day, Hermione met Snape in his office. "Enter," he called out when he heard her knocking on the door.

She slipped in, and removed the Disillusionment as soon as the door closed. It would not be good for the star student of Gryffindor to be seen meeting triweekly with the Head of Slytherin. "Good evening, Professor," she said warily.

"Miss Granger," he said, with a nod of his head. "Please take a seat." She did as she was bid, fidgeting on the hard wood chair. On Snape's desk was a copy of the Daily Prophet, Rita's Skeeter's article headlined frighteningly on the front page.

Hermione frowned, and motioned to the page. "Is there a problem with this, Professor?"

"Yes," Severus said smoothly. "If you enter into a romantic relationship with Viktor Krum, then you will no doubt be distracted from your one important task. There are three Death Eaters wandering the halls of this school, Miss Granger. Only one of them has good intentions. Sirius Black proved that the barriers we have in place can be breached. Potter is in more danger this year than he ever has been before."

_So they cannot run the risk of me getting distracted and letting something get to Harry, _Hermione realized. _They want me to break it off with Viktor and focus entirely on Harry._ "And say the other story in the Daily Prophet is true and Harry has a romantic interest in me. What would Professor Dumbledore say if Harry and I started a relationship?"

Severus sneered at her. "As unlikely as that is, considering your brain and Potter's unfortunate lack of one, the Headmaster would not be against such a relationship." _Because I would be even more invested in keeping Harry safe._

Hermione rose from her seat, crossing to the other end of the room. Severus followed her with his eyes, but let her move. "Viktor is the only person I can have an intelligent conversation with. Ron is immature and Harry _tries_ but he-" She couldn't find the words. Tears rose up and she pushed them down- she did not want Snape, of all people, to see her cry.

"I know how you feel, Miss Granger," Severus said slowly. He did- he was remembering how lonely he felt after Lily abandoned him and how absolutely desperate he was for conversation of any sort. Hermione had been without true intellectual match for so long. Too long. "Is Viktor Krum really your intellectual equal? Or is he-"

"He's a Triwizard Champion," Hermione snapped, defending him. "He's a gentleman, and he reads. And we aren't really dating or going out or anything. The Yule Ball was nice, but I will break it off with him." She knew the futility of asking to use the Time Turner- someone would notice she was in two places at once and too many questions would be asked.

She took a deep, shaky breath. "We'll be just friends," she said. "I didn't like him that much anyway." _Harry. It's all for Harry. Someone wants him dead. He's saved my life- and made me welcome in Gryffindor. One boyfriend who would be leaving in a few months anyway is nothing. _

"If you should like, Miss Granger," Severus said haltingly, "I have a few books- rare books- that might be of interest to you. Come back tomorrow if you would like to pick them up."

Something clenched in his chest when he saw a small spark of interest in her eyes before they went blank and she nodded stiffly. "Of course, Professor. Goodnight."

* * *

**And so ends Chapter Six.**

**I hate accents. Very much. I wasn't going to do them, but then someone pointed out to me that Rowling does them in the books and... ugh. So please don't hate on my for the accents. :)**

**ASHWINDER PEOPLE: Help. I was trying to post this on Ashwinder but _it's not working_ and this is causing me a lot of distress. I keep adding the second chapter (after spending an age and a half putting in all the italics) and then it _says_ it's there, but then it disappears and I didn't even get a rejection letter thingy. So. Confusion.**

**For those who are keeping up with my realtime writing of this story, Chapter Seventeen is nearly done and it's a lovely bit of plotting. This entire bugger is about 200 pages, now. Chapter Six starts on page 56, I think, so that's how much more you have to look forward to! In other news, you are 3/4 of the way through PART ONE. :) **

**Review, my lovelies, or leave me a message on tumblr. Hugs to you all. Next (Chapter Seven, one of my FAVORITES) will be up on Friday. Have a good weekend!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, my lovelies!**

**So- for those who are interested in the author's personal life- yesterday I was just enjoying my morning coffee as usual and I checked my email and it from this person I talked to a few days before telling me to come in for a job interview. O.O So in the course of three or so hours I made a resume and went to my very first job interview and now I have to wait a few days and see. I'm still kind of in shock. O.O**

**In other news, we are almost at the end of Part One (remember that this was going to be a three part story?). Yep. YAY! Also, Americans, Happy 4th and Canadians, Happy 1st. **

_**Chapter**** 7**_

In the end, Hermione did return the next night for the books, and they did cheer her up- they were fascinating and she ended up using some of her extra Time Turner hours to finish them. However, what really made Hermione walk around the castle with a secretive smile on her face was the discussion that had ensued when she returned the books.

For two glorious, glorious hours, she had a truly intellectual conversation, complete with complicated terminology, heated debate, and a civil cup of tea. True, the person she was conversing with was a snarky bastard who was clever enough to find obscure points and build irritatingly valid arguments out of them. True, he was also a man feared and reviled by more than half the school. But it was also true that Severus Snape was brilliant, beyond brilliant, and for two hours Hermione was in heaven.

When two hours had drawn to a close, Hermione had checked her watch and had to physically stop herself from giving a little mew of disappointment. "I-I need to go," she said regretfully, finishing her tea and rising. "I need to go back twelve hours and start the day again."

To her surprise, Severus might have looked disappointed, although she couldn't quite tell. "Very well, Miss Granger. I'll see you tomorrow for your report?" His demeanor changed with the question- he went from warmly sardonic and engaged to clipped efficiency in the space of two heartbeats.

"Yes, of course," Hermione said, packing her bag. "Thank you, Professor Snape." She knew he could see the desperate thanks in her eyes. She recognized it in him as well. _How can I possibly tell you how much that meant to me? That was the first time in months that I could talk with someone who doesn't think of me as child._

"You will be off schedule," he said, nodding to her slightly. "And please prepare a better argument for next time." It was all Hermione could do to not jump up and hug him.

But aside from her now weekly discussions with Snape, Hermione was spending more and more time trying to help Harry find the clue in the egg. And once they discovered that he would need to breathe underwater for an hour, both Hermione and Harry were practically living in the Library looking for a miracle.

"Harry- I may have found something-" Hermione said excitedly, eyes moving rapidly across a page in her ancient tome. "It says that there is this potion- damn. It takes five months to brew and it is ridiculously expensive." Harry was silent. Hermione looked up from her book to find him fast asleep.

_I'll leave him to sleep,_ she decided, studying the slumbering boy. He looked so young, and yet so tired. _He'll need the rest for tomorrow. If I find a way…_ The Second Task was swift approaching and Hermione was growing desperate. _How on earth can he stay underwater for an hour? Maybe I can turn back another few hours and look in the Restricted Section._

At four in the morning, the Library was still dark when Hermione stumbled upon what seemed like the perfect solution- Gillyweed. The only problem left was how to obtain some within the three hours left until the Task. And then how to treat it so that it didn't turn Harry in to a fish- but she had ideas for that.

The situation was dire- and that was the only reason Hermione was rushing through the halls of Hogwarts to the office of Severus Snape, resident Potions Master. The only problem left (other than the host of other problems- but those she and Professor Snape could deal with) was how, exactly, to get Snape's attention at four in the morning. Presumably, he didn't sleep with his watch on him. "I am so going to regret this," Hermione muttered, spelling open the door to his office, slipping inside without being seen and shutting the door.

Immediately, she found herself immobilized and upside down. _This is so Professor Snape. Stop the threat and humiliate them at the same time. _Her cheeks felt like they were on fire- the Hogwarts uniform for girls consisted of a button down shirt, pleated black skirt, and House tie, worn under a robe. Unfortunately, Hermione had left her robe in her dormitory. _Lovely. Snape gets to peek at my knickers. _

Her hands were trapped at her sides- she couldn't reach her watch with her wand to contact Professor Snape. _God damn it. He had to have felt the alarms trip, he should be here soon._

* * *

A few hours later, Severus Snape was taking his time dealing with the intruder in his office. He had _known_ Barty Crouch (as seen on Potter's goddamned bloody map- he needed to confiscate and replicate that as soon as possible) would try to sneak into his private stores to steal more ingredients for the Polyjuice. And the wards he had placed in his office were perfect- he had James Potter to thank for providing him with sufficient experience with humiliation and trap-setting. The added bonus was that he could finally get Barty Crouch back for stealing the ingredients earlier in the year.

He had planned the wards with that in mind, hoping he would get a rare chance to humiliate a Death Eater who was also, at the moment, a retired Auror. Severus Snape disliked most Death Eaters (most were crude and sadistic, cruel and sadistic, or some variation thereof) and most Aurors (most were Gryffindors and trigger happy, or trigger happy and inflated on their own pride, or some variation thereof). It was an opportunity that would probably never happen again- and Severus Snape intended to make the most of it.

As such, he was striding through the dungeons, robes billowing dramatically as he turned the corner. He suspected Crouch could see him with Moody's eye, and wanted to appear as intimidating as he could. Severus wrenched open the door, teeth bared in a grin, only to be confronted with…

"Miss Granger," Severus choked. In front of him was a very red and very angry teenage girl. Upside down, hair touching the floor, tie hanging in her face, and legs on display to the world. _Of course. It had to be the Gryffindor Know-it-all in my office at four in the morning. And she's been like this for two and a half hours. Gods help me. I never would have guessed pink, though. White. Blue maybe. Not pink._ With a quick slash of his wand, he canceled the spell, catching her head before it hit the floor. As soon as he was sure she was no longer in danger from a concussion, he jumped back as if a first year had lit his robes on fire.

Hermione glared up at him from the floor, brushing a few long curls out of her face. Her extremely red, angry face. "We will never speak of this again." The unspoken, 'or you will suffer' hung in the air.

"Agreed," Severus said hastily, retreating to the space behind his desk. "We need to work out a better of contacting each other when you need to talk to me." Hermione raised one eyebrow in a 'no duh' move, but nodded.

She stood, brushing her skirt down and trying to pat her hair down. "I'm a woman grown now," she muttered. "I should be spared these indignities." She huffed once more, and faced him, face still uncontrollably warm. "Do you have any Gillyweed?" _What on earth does she need Gillyweed for? Is there someone she wants to turn into a fish?_

But Severus just inclined his head once, turning to open the cabinet that held some of his more valuable or dangerous Potions supplies- of course, the cabinet in his office was not the best supplies as the Moody Impersonator had proven that perhaps the only safe place was Severus' quarters themselves. Nevertheless, he withdrew a clump of Gillyweed. "And this will make Potter breathe under the lake for an hour?"

"No," Hermione said. "I need an infusion of seaweed and asphosfel, powder of Mediterranean urchin, and a rinse of fresh water." She had had hours to think about the perfect treatment, after all.

Severus stared at her for a moment. "Have I ever told you that you are bloody brilliant?" _She couldn't have found this in a book- she must have found the properties of Gillyweed in some research text then used her knowledge of Potions for the rest. _This made him inordinately proud- a student of his succeeding in combining various treatments like that. _The infusion for the water resistance and only a partial transformation, the Mediterranean urchin for detoxification of waterborne poisons and warmth under the water, and the fresh water for the type of transformation needed. She's brilliant. _

The next frantic, harried minutes were spent treating the Gillyweed- soaking it in the infusion, rolling the rat-like tails in the powder and rinsing it in the flask of Lake Water needed. When they finished, it was ten past nine.

"What now?" Severus asked, considering the tangled up ball of fleshy tentacles. "How do we get this to Potter?"

"I hate doing this," Hermione muttered. "Dobby? Could you come here please?" Hermione cast a containing charm on the Gillyweed, lifting it out of the water carefully. It wouldn't do for it to touch her skin. She set it to cancel as soon as Harry's feet were in the water.

Dobby appeared promptly with a loud crack, and disappeared just as swiftly clutching the ball of Gillyweed ("For the Great Harry Potter Sir!")

"We're done," Hermione said, collapsing onto a stool with a sigh of relief. "Harry can survive under water for one hour and our job is done."

"Not quite, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore, walking into the small Potions workroom, smiling genially. He ignored Severus' frown, and raised wand. "Don't worry about your wards, Severus. They are only temporarily disabled."

_Dear Lord,_ Hermione thought. _Dumbledore. What does he have planned now?_

"I'm afraid I need to borrow Miss Granger, Severus. If you would, Miss Granger." She rose from the stool, yawning wearily and almost falling.

Snape steadied her with a hand on her elbow. "Miss Granger is too tired for your schemes this morning," Severus snapped. "She was up all night ensuring that your precious Potter wouldn't make a fool out of himself and the school at the Second Task."

"Miss Granger is needed for the Second Task," Dumbledore replied, voice a shade sharper than it had been before. "Viktor Krum needs a hostage." _The same Viktor Krum you made me avoid until he got the message that we were just friends? Consistency, Headmaster. Haven't you ever heard of consistency? And Miss Granger is capable of speaking for herself. _"You will need to go back three hours. If you go up to my office, you will find me there enjoying a cup of tea."

* * *

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" Severus asked the 'next' day in his office. "What exactly happened below the surface of the lake?"

Hermione sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Harry told me what happened, but Viktor gave me another version. I'm not sure who is right, exactly." She was so tired. Too tired. But when she had twisted back a day to go and sleep, she found a note on the bed of her private room.

Severus gestured at her to continue. "I'm waiting, Miss Granger."

"Harry said that they swam down to the city of the merpeople. In the center of their city square, The four-" she scowled. "Hostages, were tied to statues. Harry said he swam down, grabbed a stone, and started hacking at Ron's ties. Cho Chang was obviously for Cedric, as much as he would have liked to save her, and Gabrielle Delacour was for Fleur. Then there was me, and Ron, and since Viktor and I went to the dance together, he saved Ron. And Gabrielle, since Fleur was caught by the grindylows. Then, apparently, Viktor showed up and carted me off." Hermione sighed again, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "Is that all, sir?" she asked, yawning wide.

He nodded brusquely. "Go, Miss Granger. Meet me for your lessons at seven." She left quickly, almost falling out of her chair with exhaustion. He wasn't surprised- she had been up all day for classes, then all night searching for a way for Potter to succeed on the Second Task, then forcefully introduced to the draining effects of a magically induced coma, put under several hundred feet of icy February-in-Scotland lake water, and finally kept awake from sheer noise and pestering questions during the ensuing party.

He worried sometimes it was getting to be too much on her- watching Harry, fretting over the Tournament, acting in front of the fake Moody. _It's only until June,_ he told himself. _Over the summer, we can rest._

* * *

"How did Harry take the events under the lake, Severus?" asked the Headmaster, tucking away the refused lemon drops. "What did Miss Granger tell you?"

The night was cool for February, but the Headmaster's office was cozily warm. Severus shook his head, remembering the gleaning he had grasped from Hermione's mind. "Potter is fine. He was relieved that someone else did all the work for him and he got the Gillyweed in time, and he's proud of himself for disrupting the task by attempting to rescue all the hostages."

"I forgot to thank you for preparing the Gillyweed, Severus," the Headmaster said, taking a sip of his tea. "I was surprised at how well it worked, even with all your experience in the field of Potions. You might consider marketing it after the war is done with."

"It was mostly Miss Granger's work," Severus snapped. He couldn't believe what she had done, why should he expect Dumbledore too? Yet still, it angered him to see people overlook her brilliance. "She came up with the entire idea, then got that insane house elf to deliver it to Potter."

Dumbledore was as surprised as Severus had expected him to be. "Astounding," he breathed. "A child so young-"

"She is seventeen now," Severus corrected him. "She had the mind of a witch grown, and she uses it." Occasionally, he caught glimpses of a fifteen year old in her, put it was happening less and less.

"But even at seventeen it is impressive," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I am sincerely starting to believe that we made the right choice, those years ago." _It was only two years, for us at least, Headmaster,_ Severus said in his head. _For her, it's been more than four. And only now you start to consider that you made the right choice?_

* * *

Following the task, Rita Skeeter published yet another article about the supposed love triangle between Hermione, Harry, and Viktor. Hermione was furious- Harry was a brother, nothing more. Viktor- now he was a friend. But that didn't mean that it hadn't felt nice when his (very strong) arms had been around her, pulling her from the lake and warming her. And even after avoiding him after the ball, he still looked at her with puppy dog eyes and asked her to visit his family home in Bulgaria. She had closed her eyes, steeled herself to answer, and was saved by Harry's emergence from the lake.

The next few days after the article was published in Witch Weekly, Hermione was flooded with hate mail. The first few letters were disheartening enough with just words, angry letters berating her for going back to Krum and breaking Harry's heart. Then the really nasty ones arrived- the ones filled with toxic pus and curses.

"This is ridiculous," Severus seethed in his office, while bandaging her hands. She had gone to him after receiving a letter than exploded when she had tried to toss it in the fire. "You all are fifteen- and your love life is none of their business."

Hermione snorted, then made a soft nose from the pain. "Well, technically, Harry is fourteen, Krum is seventeen, and I am seventeen. It is really logically much more legal if I'm with Krum than with Harry."

"You don't look seventeen, Miss Granger," Snape pointed out. "Your Glamours take care of that at least- but you need to remember to continually reapply them. It was flickering at dinner last night- a few Hufflepuffs noticed."

Hermione rolled her eyes, searched for her wand, then removed her Glamour entirely. "I might as well leave it off here," she reasoned. "It's rather draining." Suddenly, Severus noticed that she was taller, that there were subtle curves and a waist present, as well as long legs. The Glamour didn't cover these aspects- they just drew attention to other things and reduced the affect if someone did notice.

"Very well, Miss Granger," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Have you finished Bonte's _Analysis of the Effects of the Salem Witch Trials on the Wizarding Law in Northern America?_"

Hermione beamed at him, the expression looking almost out of place on her suddenly mature face. "He is a genius! I never thought to make those connections between the fourth clause of the American version of the Statue of Secrecy…"

* * *

Harry revived Ron, giving his friend a hand up from the cushioned floor. "Alright, mate?"

"Yeah," said Ron, blinking slowly. "Ouch."

"What else for today?" asked Harry, turning to Hermione. "We've practiced Stunners, Disarmers, and Impediment spells, plus all those other helpful little tricks you pulled out of all those books you read."

"The Task is a maze," Hermione reasoned, tapping her wand against her chin and swinging her feet from her perch on the empty teacher's desk. "You should know a compass spell that will point you to the middle of the maze. Here- the incantation is simple. 'Point Me' and you just let the wand spin in your hand. Ron- don't drop your wand." She demonstrated, then watched as Harry and Ron tried the spell.

They had been training for weeks now, preparing Harry for the Third Task. Hermione was not as worried as she had been for the other two- she was confident that she could whip Harry into shape for this Task. It was a simple matter of knowing spells, and being able to use them effectively. The only hard part was deciding what had to take priority.

Sirius had helped her decide what would be a wise choice, and what was unnecessary. Hermione tended to estimate on the far side, rather than be caught with something she wouldn't be prepared for. That was where Sirius was useful- he erred on the side of extreme risk rather than that of extreme caution. "Hermione. Harry will probably not be facing rabid trees. They're too tall for the maze. And enchanted bears are too easy to defeat. Are you certain about manitcores?"

"Hagrid," Hermione reminded the convict, crossing the other two off her list. "If he can breed Blast-Ended Skrewts, he can get ahold of a manticore. And giant spiders. And perhaps Fire Crabs."

Despite all the training, Hermione was still quite anxious as Harry was led away during dinner to meet with the other champions. This was the direct result of a conversation with Severus- the stern man had reprimanded her for letting down her guard, reminding her that this was the last opportunity to severely hurt Harry during the Triwizard- nothing had happened yet so far.

Which was why when, on the day of the third task, the enchanted watch she wore burned hot, then cold, the hot again, Hermione dropped out of the group making their way to the stands. A few hasty excuses about needing to go the Library worked their charms, and soon she was walking as quickly as she could to the dungeons, breaking into a run as soon as she was in an empty part of the castle.

Severus was waiting for her outside an empty classroom, face and fists clenched. As soon as she was within a reachable distance, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside the office. "You have to stop Potter from going into the maze," Severus said, speaking clearly and quickly. "I don't care what excuse you have to use, but Harry Potter can be nowhere near the trophy. It is a Portkey-"

Her mind leapt through all the possible implications. "I understand," Hermione replied quietly. _They made sure it was easy enough until now so Harry could win. He will be going about now-_ "I'll see you after. You're going to try and stop it?"

"Yes," Severus said nodding. "Good luck, Miss Granger. Godspeed." His ebony eyes met her mahogany ones, and they parted, rushing in different directions.

Her heart was pounding in her chest and in her ears as Hermione raced through the corridors, making her momentarily glad that she was clad in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Robes would hinder her progress, and she needed to be fast.

Even running as quickly as she was, by the time she reached the Quidditch Pitch it was past dusk and all the Champions were in the maze. All of them- Harry and Cedric had gone in first and Fleur had been between the hedges for at least seven minutes.

There was no time to make a more prudent decision- she and Snape had discussed a similar, albeit hypothetical, situation before. There was no way to reach the Champions in the maze, or see what they were doing, thus the need for the red sparks. Hermione knew what was needed of her- what was expected.

A quick Disillusionment would suffice. She didn't want to be seen. Quiet as a shadow, Hermione took a steadying breath and ran into the mouth of the maze. Immediately the sounds from the stands vanished, and all Hermione could hear was the quiet sounds of her breathing and an unnatural wind blowing through the hedges. If Hermione had been claustrophobic, she would have been in trouble; the walls of the maze were formed from thick hedges, grown to over eighteen feet high with the help of magic.

"Point me," she whispered, concentrating fiercely on Harry. Her wand swiveled in her hand, indecisive for a moment before pointing at the middle of a thick hedge to her right. "Helpful," Hermione muttered. "Right turns, then."

It wasn't long before she encountered a swarm of enchanted bees- bees made from onyx and amber with stings made of slender crystals filled with venom. They were dealt with using a shield and a mass Stunner, then a crushing spell. Hermione debated for a moment, then left them there. It would have been the perfect time to collect the rare venom- if Harry's life wasn't in danger.

The next obstacle was a mist that flipped the world on its head. Hermione froze stock still- to move one foot would mean being flipped inside out. At least she had her hand on her wand- a rapid counter-curse and she moved out of the mist.

She ran from a Blast-Ended Skrewt, fought some Devil's Snare, and pulverized a man-eating lily. It seemed she was in a section that had benefited heavily from Professor Sprout- the next plant she encountered were Binding Vines, wrapped around the form of a beautiful girl.

Hermione sent up red sparks with her wand, then freed the French girl. As soon as the ties were away from her mouth, Fleur screamed, until Hermione gagged her. "I'm trying to help you," Hermione said as the rest of the vines unwound. "I sent up sparks. They should get here by the time the vines are done." The girl just looked back and forth frantically at the rippling air that was talking to her.

Hermione continued on her path, checking on Harry's location every so often. Once in a while she heard a human grunt or yell, or a lion's roar from inside the maze. Hermione dodged a fleet of poison darts, leapt over a cleverly disguised pit, and backed away slowly from a manticore.

Well, backed away slowly from a manticore and right into the hard chest of Viktor Krum. The Bulgarian was surprised feel a warm body bump into his chest, but he recovered like lightening, gripping her forearms with his meaty hands. As soon as they were safely away from the manticore, Hermione had a wand pointing in the general region of her throat.

"Who are you?" Viktor growled, jabbing her with his wand. "Reveal yourself." Hermione drew her wand, pulling it out slowly, and leveling it with his belly. _Make them surrender their weapon first Viktor. Or Stun them and cast a revealing spell. And I thought you went to Durmstrang?_

"Imperio," she hissed, watching as Viktor's face smoothed over. "Right. Try and find Cedric Diggory, and take him out of the competition. Do not permanently injure him. As soon as you find him, send up red sparks." He gave her a dazed nod, weaving slightly where he stood before walking down a path to their left.

She went to the right- glancing up at the sky as she did. Dusk was fading, they sky a bruised purple flickering with the light of a few stars. There were fewer and fewer obstacles as she got closer to the end of the maze, but Hermione could hear hissing and clicking, and well as the occasional growl.

And finally, she saw the one she was looking for, standing in front of a _Sphinx._ A great, big, bloody _Sphinx._ Hermione forced herself to stay in the shadows, straining to hear the riddle and Harry's response.

"… the middle of middle and the end of end?" Harry was saying. "The _middle_ of middle and the _end _of end." He even sounded confused to Hermione- she wanted to scream out that it was _d_ just the letter _d_ for Heaven's sake, when he lit up like a light bulb. "D!" he shouted. "Alright. And the last part- er- I don't know- wait! –Er! The last part is –der." The Sphinx just swished her tail.

"And the answer is something I wouldn't want to kiss," Harry muttered, running one hand through his messy hair. "There are plenty of things I wouldn't want to kiss. But-" he looked up at the Sphinx. "I got it. The thing I wouldn't want to kiss is a spider. Spy-d-er."

"You may pass," the Sphinx said, giving the youngest Champion a sultry smile. "I was the second to last obstacle to the Cup. Beware." Her lion's body moved aside, and Harry scooted passed her and ran into the clearing.

Hermione followed him- only to find the Sphinx baring her way. "You have not answered a riddle," said the woman-beast, glaring at her. "You must answer before you can pass."

"Then give me a riddle," Hermione answered, stepping back, watching the woman-lion with wary eyes.

"My first is twice in apple but not once in tart. My second is in liver but not in heart. My third is in giant and also in ghost. Whole I am best when I am roast. What am I?" recited the Sphinx. "Answer right and you may pass. Answer wrong and I attack."

_This is easy enough,_ Hermione thought. _Twice in apple, that would be the letter 'p.' Second letter could be 'l,' 'i,' or 'v.' Last is either 'g' or 't.' Plg, Plt, Pig, Pit, Pvg, Pvt. Pig and Pit are plausible- but pigs are good roasted whole. _"You are a pig," Hermione said aloud, taking perverse pleasure in insulting the Sphinx. "May I pass?"

Reluctantly, the Sphinx moved aside, allowing the girl to pass into the battle scene before her. Harry and Cedric were fighting an enormous spider- Harry looked as if he was limping, Cedric was scrambling for his wand, and the spider was still advancing.

Hermione made a split second decision, casting a Stunner at the vulnerable underbelly of the spider, following it up with a few binding jinxes and another Stunner. Harry and Cedric didn't notice her- they stared at each other. Hermione collapsed from momentary exhaustion- to get through the defenses of an Acromantula was magically tiring.

"Both at the same time?" Harry offered. "It would still be a Hogwarts victory." Hermione debated the best way of taking care of the problem- take out Cedric, and explain to Harry? Or take out Harry and explain to Cedric? Or take out both? Reveal to both? What would happen if Harry found out that she was supposed to be protecting him-

And she looked up and realized that they were both stumbling to the Triwizard Cup.

A strangled scream ripped its way out of her throat. "No!" Hermione yelled, pulling off the Disillusionment. "Harry, stop!" She bolted toward them- Harry turning his head to stare at her, eyes widening, Cedric spinning all the way around.

"Hermione-" Harry started to say, reeling back as Hermione pushed off the ground and used Cedric's shoulder for leverage, pushing the Hufflepuff away from the Cup and her closer to Harry. "What are you-"

Harry stumbled when he tried to put his weight on his bad foot, hands shooting out to grab something to break his fall. "NO!" Hermione screamed again, lunging forward as his hand connected with the Cup. Her own hand connected with it- her fingertip barely brushing the metal- metal that began to burn bright blue.

Hermione didn't register exactly what had happened until she felt a sensation like a hook going through her navel, and she was lifted off the ground, Harry by her side.

* * *

Severus bore down on Cedric Diggory as the boy was taken from the maze. "Where are Miss Granger and Mr. Potter?" he hissed, looming over the tall seventh year. "What happened to them?"

"Portkey," gasped Cedric. "What the bloody hell happened in there? Granger shows up out of nowhere, and pushes me away from the Cup, then she and Harry go flying away-" He had cuts on his face from some of the more dangerous hedges in the maze, and was breathing strangely.

Frankly, Severus no longer cared. "Miss Granger is with him?" His words were deliberate, the tone one of a man trying desperately to reign in his temper.

Dumbledore appeared by the two of them, still partially hidden within the mouth of the maze. "Severus," Dumbledore intoned, icy sparks of pure anger in his eyes. "Leave the boy alone. Miss Granger and Mr. Potter have left the school grounds. The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey."

* * *

They landed in an abandoned graveyard- fog was curling out of the darkness, around simple headstones and ornate stone angels alike. The full moon was high in the sky, glowing softly with enough light for Hermione to make out the form of a church behind the leaves of a yew tree and a hill on their left topped with a grand old house.

"Wands out," she croaked, tightening her grip in the smooth wood. Harry opened his mouth, and she cut him off. "Professor Moody was an imposter. I ran into the maze to find you and warn you not to touch it." He closed his mouth again. Apparently, this made sense to him- and she wasn't about to question a stroke of good luck.

"Where to you reckon we are?" asked Harry warily, turning around in a full circle. "All I see are gravestones, headstones, and a few statues."

Hermione shivered unconsciously, mentally willing her hand to stop shaking. "We need to get out of here now, Harry. I can feel it, someone's watching us- there." She pointed at them with her chin. A short, ungainly figure in a dark cloak was emerging from the mists, clutching a heavy bundle to its chest.

Harry collapsed, eyes open but not seeing, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. She knew what was in the bundle now- the form of Lord Voldemort.

"Kill the spare," a high, cold voice ordered.

* * *

**And so ends Chapter Seven. Like the plot twist?**

**And boy are you guys in for it with the next chapter. Chapter Eight will be the end of Part One. Chapter Eight, in which the Dark Lord returns to power and shit hits the fan. Someone asked if I'm staying true to the books, and the answer is I don't really know yet. So far, I'm on book five and things are still pretty canon. But different, because of what just happened.**

**ALSO: In this world, gillyweed doesn't give you wonderful gills. It turns you into a giant fish. So it needs to be treated. Or else all the other contestants would have used a wonderfully simple plant that _does exactly what you need._**

**Comments are, as always, appreciated. If you enjoy Sherlock fanfiction, I have several (including a new one!). See you on Friday!**

**And also, I solved my Ashwinder problem. I still like fanficion better.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, readers dear. I know you are eager to get to the resolution, so I will do more talking in my other AN.**

**Sorry about however long Chapter Seven was a repeat of Chapter Six... I have no idea what happened. I fixed it.**

_**Chapter 8**_

The green bolt of Death passed a fraction of an inch from her chest as Hermione ducked out of the way. She retaliated with a Stunner and an Expelliarmus.

The short man in the heavy cloak stumbled back, giving Hermione enough time to try and pull Harry to his feet. The Boy-Who-Lived was, however, useless from pain, clutching his scar and whimpering. "Come on, come on, come on!" Hermione was saying, pulling him away and closer to the Cup. "It might go both ways, depends what Moody did to it-"

The cloaked man recovered before they could reach the golden Cup, the glint of the metal shining temptingly in the moonlight. "Expelliarmus," he gasped, Disarming Hermione as she desperately tried to reach the prize. Contrary to her expectation, he caught her wand, raising his own wand again, the hood of the heavy cloak falling from the top of his head to reveal his face.

"Wormtail," Hermione breathed. For some reason, she felt a swell of relief. _What? Why the only time I've ever met him I almost killed him why should I- Oh!_ "Stop! You owe me a debt, Wormtail!" The pudgy man actually did stop- he kept his wand pointing her way, and glanced at the bundle he had carefully set on the ground before attacking her.

The bundle squirmed uneasily. "Is that true, Wormtail?" it hissed, the same high, cold voice that had ordered Hermione's death.

"It's true," Hermione shouted, mind working as fast as she could make it. "He pled at my feet for his miserable life and as much as I wanted him dead I lowered my wand." It was true- she could see the moment with sickening clarity, how he had begged her, 'sweet girl, pretty girl,' to give him his life. She had turned away in disgust and the rat had then crawled to Harry.

Before them, Wormtail nodded and cringed, clearly expecting the wrath of the ball of cloth on the ground. "Yes, my lord. The girl is Hermione Granger- the clever one. The ones the papers say Harry Potter loves."

Hermione glanced down at the boy at her feet. "Let Harry go- you can take me instead-" even as she said it she knew it was hopeless.

"Very well," hissed the still squirming bundle. "Tie both of them to the headstones. We will use his blood to revive me and then I will kill her and torture him with her death." He had her wand- but she had her knives- and she had been practicing directing spells through the wand cores. She wasn't great at it, but maybe she could manage something. As long as he didn't find those she would find a way to escape.

The two students were dragged to a smaller area of marble headstones. Hermione was bound to one that read _Annette M. Riddle_ and Harry to one on her right, with the inscription, _Tom Riddle_. Hermione could remember a time shortly after second year when Harry had sat her and Ron down with a piece of paper, and written _Tom Marvolo Riddle = I am Lord Voldemort._

Harry was being bound in tight ropes, from neck to ankles. He struggled for a moment against the cords, and received a blow from the Death Eater. Then Wormtail pulled out a piece of cloth from some inner pocket of his robes, shoving it in Harry's mouth.

Wormtail turned to Hermione. "Don't make a sound," he warned her. "Or I'll find something else to shove in your mouth and you won't like it very much." Hermione glared at him, but nodded and held her tongue.

Wormtail returned to the bundle, picking it up when it stirred fretfully. He was holding it strangely, like a child- but the child could talk and give orders to _kill_-

Below her feet, Hermione could barely detect a movement in the shadows, and the soft _whiskwhisk_ of smooth scales on grass. The giant snake let out a long hiss, winding itself around her tombstone. Hermione let out a small moan, drawing the attention of the baby-creature. "Not yet, Nagini," he said slowly. "We will finish my regeneration, and then you may have the girl for a treat."

_I'll give you a bloody treat, _Hermione thought rebelliously. _I will not be snake food. I will not die before I- before-_

Her train of thought broke off as she analyzed what was happening- Wormtail had brought a cauldron full of what seemed like water to a boil. However, soon Hermione rethought that opinion when sparks began to leap from the water and gather on the surface, until it looked almost diamond incrusted. Harry was stirring slowly by her side, opening pain-reddened eyes and trying to turn his head to look at her.

The bundle on the ground was moving even more erratically, as if it was trying to free itself. "Hurry," it snapped at Wormtail. "It's ready now, Master," Wormtail wheezed, picking up the source of the voice.

It laughed, a hissing crackle. "Now," it said.

Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a yell that was strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth. Hermione just moaned again quietly. It was unnatural- an abomination.

It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind - but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Hermione had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes. A demon child, the Anti-Christ, anything but a baby.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Hermione noted the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, Hermione saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Hermione heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

_Let it drown, let it drown, please, please let it drown!_ Hermione was thinking frantically, looking desperately at Wormtail, who was steadying himself, and raising his wand. They had to get out of there before Voldemort was finished with his 'regeneration.' Her knives were close to her body- by her hips. She began to struggle with as little movement as possible to get to them.

"Bone of the father, unwillingly give, you will renew your son!" Wormtail said in a high wavering voice, dragging his wand in an arc. To her horror, Hermione could see fragile white-grey dust rising from the grave under Harry's feet, following the wand into the cauldron. As soon as it hit the surface of the water, it sparked and bubbled. The substance around Lord Voldemort was now a vivid, poisonous blue. She was close to the knives- Wormtail had not tied good knots and for a moment she was thankful to the repugnant man.

Now Wormtail was whimpering, throwing terrified looks at the cauldron and the beast-human inside it. With a cry of pain, he pulled a long, thin dagger from his cloak. Hermione stared at it for a moment, fascinated. It glistened alarmingly in the moonlight, and from experience she could tell it would be sharp.

"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master." He stretched his right hand out in front of him - the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. Hermione winced, turning away- Wormtail screamed into the night and she heard the quiet thump of the hand falling to the grass. She could still imagine the spray of blood, the four-fingered hand dropping to the ground. Wormtail had missed the cauldron. Sobbing, the man was kneeling on the ground, but he gathered his strength and picked up the hand to throw into the potion. It blazed a bright blood red into the night.

Hermione opened her eyes, hearing the ragged breathing of the traitor. He cut into Harry's arm, breathing heavily. "Blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will resurrect your foe." He lurched to the cauldron, and poured the blood in, then collapsed on the hard earth. Immediately, white smoke billowed out, over the lip of the cauldron and into the night of the graveyard.

_Bone of the father- for a person is first born of the flesh. The parents are the framework. Flesh of the servant- the people who follows a man shows who he is, gives him his power, the force. But the blood of the enemy- those who hate a man give him his driving force, the energy, the life. No one is perfect, no one is loved by all. Oh god. It's really happening. _

In the haze, she twisted her wrist and finally grasped the hilt of the knife Severus had given her. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and began to maneuver to get the blade free.

A shadowy figure was rising from the depths of the cauldron, tall and skeletally thin, bald head thrown back in a laugh. "Robe me," he commanded, voice high and full of the lust of success. Wormtail, still sobbing at the base of a stone angel, stumbled to the black robes. Clutching his mutilated arm, he pulled the robes over his master's head.

The tall man stepped out of the cauldron, staring avidly at Harry with bright red eyes. His skin was skull white and stretched tightly over his cheekbones and eye sockets. His nose was flatter than Hermione would have thought possible, just a small bump with two snake-like slits for nostrils. The horrible red eyes had slits for pupils, lit with delight as his spidery hands caressed every part of his body.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Systematically, he went about the business of calling his followers, watching with careful eyes those who came at his call. As he walked among them, Hermione carefully cut at her bonds, remaining dutifully silent as she twisted on her massive headstone. He had just given Wormtail a glowing silver hand when Hermione freed herself. She kept one hand on the cords, however, sustaining the illusion she was a captive.

Harry noticed her work, staring at her with wide eyes. She winked at him to calm him, then nodded at the assembled Death Eaters with her chin. If the caught her at this stage of the game, it would not be pretty. Meanwhile, Voldemort was speaking at length on his journey to his new body, using his talents as a charismatic speaker to his advantage.

But when he turned and cursed Harry, Hermione screamed along with her best friend. "Stop! Stop, you're hurting him!"

Voldemort dropped the curse, leaving the Boy-Who-Lived slumped in his bindings. "Who is this child who defies Lord Voldemort?" he hissed. "Look at me, girl!" Behind him the Death Eaters shuffled uncomfortably. Hermione searched their ranks for a familiar form, recognizing Malfoy and Mulciber. Her heart sank as she realized that a tall thin Potions Master was nowhere to be found.

Hermione lifted her head, looking into the red, red eyes. Eyes that were drawing her in, black slits surrounded by crimson and ruby, eyes that wanted to come into her head and search out her secrets…

_Legilimency_, a voice told her. _Give him your false images. Now!_ She did as the voice bid, allowing her flimsy false walls to break under the dark wizard's onslaught to reveal her carefully planned false memories. She could _feel_ him riffling through them, pausing at a few, but just scanning the surface of others. She was weeping with relief inside her hidden mindspace, thanking the gods that he didn't bother looking further. For what chit of a girl could resist the Dark Lord?

"This girl," he said, turning to address his followers, "Hermione Granger, is a Mudblood. Do you want to show our dear guests what we do with Mudbloods?" He whispered a wandless spell to free her from her already cut ropes, and took her by the arm, dragging her to the open half circle. Above her head, Harry jerked frantically against his bonds.

He managed to spit free his gag, and Hermione winced, not just at the claw-like fingers digging into her arm. Harry was going to do something stupid. "No!" he shouted, straining with all his might against the ropes. "Not Hermione! Let her go and take me-"

With a flick of Voldemort's hand, he was Silenced. "It seems that the _hero_ of the Wizarding World has some… affection… for our little Mudblood," Voldemort announced. Hermione shook off his hand and stepped very deliberately between Harry and Voldemort. "Poor Harry Potter. First his father, then his mother… and now his little girlfriend…" he heaved a great, dramatic sigh. "And then him. Crucio!"

The pain was unlike any Hermione had experienced before- rippling through her body and scourging her insides. Her skin was pulling itself off her muscles, her lungs were attempting to crawl out of her mouth, and her brain was liquefying and pouring out her ears- and then it was over. She lay gasping on the ground, strength draining into the effort of breathing.

Around her, Voldemort and his Death Eaters were watching, some following the Dark Lord's lead and laughing. Although her arms were shaking fiercely, Hermione pushed herself up on her elbows and spat at the feet of the Dark Lord. "Bite me," she croaked out. "I won't let you hurt him."

"Feisty," he murmured. "I'd love to have it beaten it out of you, but I simply do not have the time." He beckoned forward one of his men, one Hermione did not recognize in the pale light and heavy cloak. "Make sure she does not interfere. And you might want to Crucio her again. In my experience, it does Mudbloods good."

With a deep rumble of laughter, the man pulled her, kicking and screaming, to the side and did as his lord had bid. Decades or seconds of pain passed until she was once again breathing heavily, flat on her back. She was inside the circle now, 'her' Death Eater training his wand on her warily. She twisted on the ground to look up at what was happening, and her heart sank in her chest.

Harry- wobbling on his injured leg and holding his wand shakily, looking all the while like he was about to pass out. He was forced to bow to Voldemort, shooting worried glances at Hermione as his spine bent and his nose nearly met the ground. She smiled weakly at him, trying to reassure him. A normal boy might not last a minute against the Dark Lord, but if anyone had a chance, it was Harry Potter.

In seconds, Harry was writhing under the Cruciatus Curse, screaming at the top of his lungs. It looked a good deal more painful that the one Hermione had endured- Harry's scar had split open and trickles of red were dripping down his face.

"Did that hurt, Harry Potter?" asked Voldemort, a cruel smile playing on the cold white features of his new face. "You certainly were screaming like it hurt. Do you want to see what it looks like again? No? Maybe a demonstration of how it looks on your little Mudblood friend?" A simple flick of his wand brought the awful, blinding pain back to Hermione.

Fortunately, it was over in a few seconds. Hermione had bitten the inside of her cheek- blood was in her mouth and she couldn't help coughing it up. She flinched when she saw the worry and terror on Harry's face- this was not the time for him to be worried about her. "I'm fine, Harry," she said. "Fight him, fight him with all you-" and she was screaming and twitching on the ground again, courtesy of 'her' Death Eater.

When she was finally freed from the Curse, she couldn't find Harry. She tried scrambling to her feet, but was kicked down by the Death Eater behind her. She collapsed on the ground with a sharp exhalation, just in time to see Harry leap out from behind a gravestone and shout a spell at Voldemort.

The crackling green of the Death Curse met the sizzling red of the Disarmer, and golden light was flying everywhere. It formed a bubble around Voldemort and Harry, sealing them off from the rest of the Dark wizards.

"Should we attack it?" asked the one Hermione thought was Goyle. "Send a few spells at it, or something?"

Lucius Malfoy sneered at the man, but Hermione noticed that his grip on his wand handle tightened slightly. "No, you idiot. The Dark Lord has a one-on-one battle of the wands. He will defeat the boy, and then-" he stopped. "He will defeat the boy."

Hermione's Death Eater nudged her with his foot. "What do we do with her?" Hermione glared up at him, and he kicked her again. Hermione made sure to land with her hands under her back, just where her knives were hidden.

Malfoy gave her his best aristocratic death glare. "She's a bloody nuisance," he snapped. "If that's really the Mudblood Granger, then she punched my son in the face last year. You can do as you please with her for all I care, as long as I get a chance to give her a kick or two from Draco."

A few pointing fingers and worried murmurs passed among the men- shadowy figures were now circling the perimeter of the golden sphere. As much as Hermione strained, she couldn't hear what they were saying. A few seemed to converge on Harry's side, patting his shoulder and offering what appeared to be words of encouragement.

Finally, with a good deal of wiggling and squirming, Hermione got her knives free without attracting the notice of the Death Eaters. With a grunt of satisfaction, Hermione drove one knife into the thigh of 'her' Death Eater, pulling it down in one quick slash. As he went down screaming, she whirled around in a crouch, heading straight for Peter.

He met her halfway, reaching for her throat with his silver hand. Hermione slashed at it, darting forward to grab her wand from his robe pocket. "Come after me again, Wormtail," she sneered. "I will cut off that other hand of yours- what d'ya say?" Hermione ducked the spell she could feel aiming for her back, twisting out of the way and slashing at another robed and masked wizard.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Cup glow bright blue- the signature lightening blue of a Portkey. With a wand in one hand and her knife in the other, Hermione began to toss spells at the masked men as she fought her way to the Cup. Halfway there, she felt a searing pain across her shoulders, then warm liquid seeping down. _Cutting Curse,_ Hermione thought, throwing a Stunner over her shoulder before ducking behind an angel for a moment. _Thank the gods for adrenaline. _

Hermione slipped out from behind the angel, clipping Mulciber on the arm with a vicious reaching slice, and Stunning the man behind Malfoy in the same moment. A weak red light shot from her knife as well, hitting another man and making him stumble. She moved closer to the Cup, watching the sphere of golden thread above their heads for any sign of movement. Just as she threw up a shield at three Stunners that were flying toward her, the gold filaments dissolved and Harry hit the ground running.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "The Cup! Get to the Cup!" Hermione doubled her efforts, giving up on harming any of them and dashing to the glimmer of the Cup. One more spell brushed her arm, cracking the bone with a pressure more intense than anything Hermione had ever felt in her life. She screamed and retched, but kept moving to the Cup.

"Kill them!" Voldemort was shouting. "Kill the girl and Stun him!" Hermione set up a shield as she reached Harry, grabbing on the boy's arm. Her legs gave out, and she crumpled against him. She could feel the pain encroaching on her senses, making her feet stumble as Harry dragged her along.

Harry didn't waste a moment, shouting, "Accio!" at the Cup, pulling Hermione's hand up with his to catch it. Hermione turned her head to look at the last moment before the Cup hit their clasped hands, seeing the determination on the Dark Lord's face before deciding to protect the boy next to her. Deliberately, she waited for the spell to start spiraling to them before stepping directly in its path and turning around. It hit her in the lower back- she felt a ripping, tearing pain start there as the hot stickiness of her blood spilled from her body. She screamed for a short second before she no longer had the strength.

The last image she had of the graveyard before the Cup reached their grasp and a hook jerked under her navel was of Voldemort's triumphant face morphing into a mask of outrage.

They landed between the stands and the maze, in pure chaos. Hermione had begun to shake, pain rippling through her exhausted muscles. Dumbledore's worried face was a blur, but she heard as a sound like a cannon's roar emerged from his wand. The crush of people started backing away, only a few familiar faces stepping forward- McGonagall, Flitwick, and perhaps the most relieving of all, Snape.

"He's back!" Harry was shouting, the Cup long since abandoned to the ground as he tried to support Hermione. "Voldemort is back, he's returned and he has a body now-"

All the color drained from Snape's already pallid face, but he carried himself well. "What happened to Miss Granger?" he snapped instead, as Hermione finally gave in and let out a moan of pain as her knees failed her and she collapsed in Harry's arms.

McGonagall's head snapped to her and Harry, hands fluttering to her face in shock. "Mr. Potter! All the blood- is it yours or-" She could not finish. Her eyes seemed to be transfixed on the image of the messy haired fourteen year old clutching a slip of a girl to his chest, red staining both his robes and her pale pink shirt.

"It's hers," Severus breathed, scooping Hermione's unconscious form into his arms. It was strange, Hermione wondered, before giving into the comforting blackness that was encroaching on her mind. He was so tall and thin, but so strong. "We need to get her up to the Hospital Wing- both of them!"

"Fawkes," Dumbledore intoned softly, lifting an arm. With a flash of fire, the phoenix appeared. "Can you take Severus, Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing?"

The flame-bird chirruped comfortingly, turning to offer his tail feathers to Harry and Severus. Severus grasped two, to accommodate both his weight and Hermione's. Harry hesitantly took one, and the three were spinning through flames to the Hospital Wing in a way that was unsettlingly familiar to Portkey travel.

Fawkes deposited them in the Hospital Wing gently, Severus landing rather heavily due to Hermione. Harry, however, wavered on his bad leg before falling onto a bed. Madam Pomfrey rushed into the room, letting out a little squeak.

But she quickly recovered, ordering Severus to set Hermione down on a bed just as Dumbledore arrived in the room. "What happened to her?" the nurse demanded before returning to her diagnostic spells.

"I am quite curious as to what exactly happened as well, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, taking a seat at the base of Harry's bed. "Where did the Portkey take you?"

"To a graveyard," Harry responded, taking a deep breath. "We got there, and it was empty. Hermione and I got our wands out, and then Pettigrew came and he was carrying this- this thing that was Voldemort. He ordered Pettigrew to 'kill the spare' and so he tried-" Harry stopped at looked at Hermione, fear in his green eyes. "She _dodged _it. Then she told Wormtail that he owed her a Life Debt because she helped save his life last year. Voldemort said to bring her along so she could watch and- and he'd kill her after."

Severus, who was paying as much attention to the scans as he was to Harry's story, frowned. "That does sound like the Dark Lord when he wants to be theatrical. And then he resurrected himself?"

Harry described the regeneration ritual in as much detail as he could, glancing frequently over at Hermione's bed next to him. Madam Pomfrey was frowning, poking at one of the glowing numbers with her wand. "What spells did they use on her, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"The Cruciatus," Harry said quietly. "At least three times, maybe more. And they kicked her and- Voldemort said that they could use her as they liked as long as they fed her to the snake when they were done. They didn't have a chance- something weird happened with my wand and Voldemort's-" Harry continued to explain to Dumbledore as Severus walked over to Hermione's bedside.

"How bad is she?" he asked Madam Pomfrey, voice low. "Do you need any potions?" The nurse had repaired Hermione's arm and closed the cut on her upper back, but was regarding the girl with a worried face.

"At least twelve minutes of Cruciatus," Madam Pomfrey told him. "This was her first bout of the Curse, poor child. And then the Bone-Crusher that grazed her arm, the Slicing Hex to her shoulders, and a Cutting Curse that hit her full in the back. It would have severed her spinal cord, but whoever did it wasn't at full strength. It goes deep, though. She'll need to be careful with that one."

"I shall get the Cruciatus Potion," said Severus. "Do not allow her to wake before I get back." He stalked to the door of the Hospital Wing, letting it slam behind him.

Harry didn't even jump at the noise, engrossed into the seemingly unbelievable tale Dumbledore was telling him. "Moody is an imposter?" Harry asked, aghast. "He was the one who put my name in the Goblet?"

"I'm afraid so, my boy," Dumbledore said gravely, folding his hands in his lap. "We have captured him, but with Voldemort in corporal form once again, you are in more danger than ever."

The door flew open again, Severus striding forward with a scowl on his face. At his feet trotted a large black dog. The dog padded over to Hermione's bed, licking her hand with a whine. He perked up again when he saw that Harry was sitting up and talking, hopping onto his godson's bed with a short bark.

"Look who followed me home," Severus drawled, shooting a glare at the Animagus and handing a small vial of blue potion to Madam Pomfrey. He wrinkled his nose at the dog, who was eagerly greeting his godson. "Now, now, Potter. Mutts are not allowed on the furniture." The Potions Master ignored Padfoot's growl, turning instead to the Headmaster. "The Minister will be here in approximately five minutes."

He thrust another vial of the blue potion at Harry. "Drink, Potter," he sneered. "While I am sure Miss Granger bore the brunt of your punishment, you seem to be suffering some of the after effects of the Cruciatus yourself."

Everyone in the room glared at him, but Harry drank the potion, blinking in surprise at the taste. "It actually tastes good," he said, shock evident in his voice.

"Of course it does," Snape snapped. "I made it for myself." Harry flushed when he realized why- Snape had not answered the call of the Dark Lord and would likely be facing punishment later. "I should go and prepare myself, Headmaster," Snape said quietly. "I need to go through my memories of the last fourteen years and hide what needs to be hidden." _Namely, all my interactions with Miss Granger. He cannot find out her true purpose, not yet._

"Go, my dear boy," the Headmaster ordered. "Report to my office when you return."

* * *

One week later, Madam Pomfrey released Hermione from the Hospital Wing, sending her off with stern instructions not to overextend and injure herself. The first place she went was Snape's office.

"Enter," he called out from within, in response to the knocks on his door. When the door opened and closed on its own, he raised extra wards on his office and waited. Hermione removed her Disillusionment and her Glamour as soon as she felt the magic around her rise in a protective bubble.

They looked at each other for a moment. "You can take off your Glamour," Hermione said slowly, haltingly. "I don't care."

He started to sneer at her, but stopped, face only half contorted. "As you wish," he said, allowing the magic to drop. Hermione had to stop herself from wincing, noting the black eye and the large bruise on one side of his face.

"So he wasn't happy?" Hermione asked. "I figured he would be pretty unhappy considering what I did." She took her customary seat on the chair in front of his desk.

Severus opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. "Not here, Miss Granger," he said. "It is best if we do this somewhere I am absolutely sure no one could have infiltrated." He stood and walked to the back of his office where a door was half hidden in the shadows. Instead of using that door, he put his palm on the surface of one of the huge stones that made up the back wall. "The long shadow on the grass," he whispered. A second door appeared, and he beckoned her through.

"Hermione," Hermione said suddenly, rising from her chair. "Miss Granger feels too formal." She passed through the wall, emerging in a barren sitting room. Severus followed her, immediately crossing the room to a large display case that contained what looked like hundreds of Potions on shelves. It seemed they were all an illusion, however; he unlocked the door, locked it again, and unlocked it twice more before passing right through the shelves. Hermione followed, into a much more comfortable set of rooms.

Snape gestured at an armchair, which she sank into gratefully. "Tea?" he asked, already walking to the small kitchen area of his rooms. They were luxurious, but not lavish. Decorated in dark forest green and brown, with hints of slate grey and black, the rooms reflected the personality of the stern man. Even so, a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace and the atmosphere was welcoming enough. A winding staircase was tucked into a corner, half hidden by a large bookcase. Off to the side of the sitting room was the kitchen, complete with a small table. A desk was stationed on the other side of the room, apparently very well used. It was littered with papers, all viciously marked with bright red ink.

"Yes, please," Hermione answered. _How surreal is this?_ she asked herself. _The feared and loathed Professor Snape is offering me tea in his sitting room._ She could hear him moving around in the kitchen area; curious, she stood and wandered over to one of the many bookshelves lining the walls. She let her fingers trail over the spines of the neatly organized books, recognizing some, but all of the titles. _An Introduction to Astronomic Psychophysics and Polyatomic Ions in Their Different Relations to Potions, The Collected Poetry of Emily Dickinson, Advanced Biochemistry in Medicinal Potions, A History of Non-Magical Species and Their Alliances with Humans, The Hobbit, Pharmaceutical Herbs and Their Uses in Modern Potions, Gathered Works on Transfiguration of Potions into a Gaseous State. How on earth am I going to get Professor Snape to let me read all of these?_

"Are you done snooping, Miss Granger?" Snape said darkly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat?"

Hermione turned around guiltily, ready to apologize before recognizing the half-smirk on her mentor's face as one of amusement rather than anger. "They also said that satisfaction brought it back," she quipped, returning to her chair. "And you can call me Hermione, Professor. It's one syllable more of a mouthful than 'Miss Granger,' but a good deal less intimidating." She accepted a cup of tea, stirring in one sugar cube.

"I think it is impossible for you to enter a room without immediately seeking out all the books," Snape grumbled, splashing a dollop of milk in his own teacup. "One day, you are going to get attacked by one of the more dangerous ones."_ And then what would Harry Potter do without you to save his neck?_

She shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "The price I'd have to pay for my curiosity. Do you suppose it's a symptom of my unfortunate brush with Polyjuice?" She still retained some enhanced hearing, and she could see better in the dark than most people.

"No," Severus answered immediately. "You were alarmingly curious before you decided to experiment with one of the hardest Potions with legal ingredients. Your brief period as half-cat had nothing to do with it." He took a sip of his tea, sighing quietly. "But now to what we were discussing before. What did you ask me?"

"I asked if the Dark Lord was angrier than you had thought he would be," Hermione said again, holding her teacup with both hands. The warmth was comforting down in the dungeons. "Because of what I did."

Severus frowned, leaning forward slightly. "And what, exactly, did you do, Miss Granger?" His tone held an unconscious undertone of worry.

"Hermione," corrected the girl, throwing the man a long-suffering look. "I thought you knew. I blocked the last spell he sent at Harry." Hermione sipped her tea carefully. "I assumed it would be important because it was his last chance to injure Harry and I stopped it. I think it hit my back."

The Potions Master's frown deepened, the small furrow in his brow growing more pronounced. "He was extremely upset," he said slowly, swirling his tea in the cup. "I had to prove my supposed loyalty to him, then withstand several bouts of the Cruciatus, and then watch as others did the same. Some he believed, others he didn't."

"So he didn't say anything about what happened in the graveyard?" asked Hermione. "Nothing?" She was almost indignant, it seemed.

Severus shook his head. "That wasn't what I said," he drawled. "On the contrary. The Dark Lord was enraged at the fact Harry Potter escaped. You were mentioned briefly in passing, I believe. I know Peter, in particular, was punished for not checking you for Muggle weapons." They were quiet for a few moments, then Severus asked another question. "The Dark Lord tried to sever Potter's spinal cord. Do you know why it didn't work on you?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione admitted. "We were being pulled away by the Cup at that point. I know it hit me, though. I made sure I was between it and Harry." She shivered, tugging at a lock of her hair. "By that time, the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. And then we were safe and I collapsed in pain. So…" She let her voice trail off.

"So, indeed," Severus said with a sigh. "It must have been mitigated by the Portkey pulling you away." He gathered the empty teacups, Banishing them back to the kitchen with his wand. "Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it with a sharp shake of her head. Her face smoothed, and it was clear to Snape that she was using Occlumency to tighten her grip on her emotions. "No. I keep seeing it. In my dreams." Without her teacup to hold on to, Hermione crossed her arms around herself.

_I know,_ Severus told her silently. _I see him in my dreams all the time. I see the dead body of my best friend, I see the bodies of people I watched him kill, and I see the bodies of the people I killed. At least you have no blood-guilt, Hermione. _"Do you want Dreamless Sleep?" he asked brusquely. "I have some, should you desire it."

She raised her head, staring straight into his deep pools of shadowed grey, her own clear coffee-colored eyes troubled. "No," she said, voice shaking. "It's too easy to get addicted. Stop me, if I ever try that."

"As you wish," Severus replied steadily, allowing some of his admiration of her will to seep into his voice. Not many who faced the Dark Lord and lived to dream about it had enough strength to refuse Dreamless Sleep. "You should talk about it, with someone who understands. Mr. Potter, perhaps."

He was surprised when she shook her head. "I can't," Hermione whispered. "I- I think I killed someone. I couldn't tell Harry." With a flash, it came to Severus. Antonius Druggar had not returned from the graveyard- apparently he had bled out- his femoral artery had been severed.

He chose not to sugarcoat it. The Dark Lord was back- and unless he had an unfortunate accident or a sudden change of heart, it was quite likely Hermione would kill other people. "I am afraid you did, Miss-"

"Hermione," she said again. "Please." She was pleading with him, and he could see it even though she couldn't. She looked alone, worried, lost.

He conceded with a sigh. "Fine. I am afraid you did, _Hermione._ He was your first, and I can almost guarantee you he will not be your last." Her face paled dramatically. Severus waited a moment for her to come out of her thoughts. "He was going to torture you, rape you, allow his friends to rape you and torture you, then kill you," Severus said bluntly. "In the last twenty years, he has probably murdered at least three dozen people. You did the world a service tonight."

Hermione drew in a shaky breath, one that turned into a sob halfway through. "What am I?" she said hysterically. "What happened to me? I put myself between an evil Dark Lord and his enemy, I cut at people with knives, and I _kill_ people. I'm Hermione Granger, I was going to be a _doctor_ and I'm only in my fourth year of school-"

"Hermione Granger," Severus said as gently as he could- which wasn't much. "You are an adult. You have fought to save your own life. You have put the needs of an entire world before your own, and you have killed for one of those reasons. You may only be in your fourth year of school, but you are almost eighteen. Act like it."

She didn't look at him in shock, or start crying like he half expected her to. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, then took a deep breath. "You're right, sir," she said. "I faced down Voldemort, and I lived. I spat at his feet, I insulted him, and I survived his curses. A few nightmares won't stop me." Her determined expression was gratifying to the Potions Master.

"Severus," he said suddenly, astonishing even himself. This time, she did look at him in shock.

Her eyebrows raised, and her eyes widened. "What did you just say?" she asked. "I'm almost certain I didn't hear you correctly."

"I said 'Severus,'" he answered snarkily. "It's my name, as I am sure you know. You may use it, privately. Tell anyone, and you will wish the Dark Lord had been more affronted at your insults." _What the hell did I just do?_ Severus wondered. _I must be going mad. But she deserves it,_ he decided. _Hermione Granger is no longer a child. _

"Thank you," she said gravely, meeting his eyes again. "I-" The large grandfather's clock in the corner chimed the hour, startling both of them. "It's getting late," Hermione said wistfully, glancing at Severus' bookshelves. "Since I not taking the easy way out and using the potion, can I borrow a book to entertain me when I wake up?"

Shaking his head, he flapped a hand in her direction. "Take your pick," he said with a resigned sigh. "Any book from the shelf you were looking at earlier. None of those are dangerous."

She grinned cheekily at him, turning to consider her options. She took her time with the bookshelf, letting her fingers brush over the backs of one row, finally plucking one thick tome off the shelf. "Thank you, Severus," she said softly, as if she was unsure how the name was pronounced.

"You're welcome," he said. He rolled his eye when he noticed the slight reproach in her eyes. "Hermione."

She beamed at him, and he returned the brilliant smile with a dark scowl. He led her through the false cabinet, and back into his office. "Come see me when you finish the book," he ordered, knowing full well she would come whether he wanted her to or not. "I am interested to hear your take on the value of Transfiguring Potions."

"Of course, sir," she said. "And- thank you again." In the low light, she noticed all the shadows on his face. _He looks so tired,_ she thought. _His life is in danger every second of the day, now. _

Severus' serious expression softened slightly. "If you need to talk, come to me, Hermione," he said smoothly. "Unlike Mr. Potter, I have killed before." His eyes glittered dangerously for a moment, looking off into the shadows before returning to her own. "The guilt does not dissipate," he said quietly. "But it does become less… potent… over time."

She nodded, her face regaining the rigidity it had lost for a while in his rooms. "I might not be any help," Hermione said softly. "But you might need someone to talk to. Or to be of medical assistance when you return from the Dark Lord's presence." She blinked at him, then smiled thinly. "You need not stand alone, Severus. I may not be able to do much, but I will do for you what I can."

He said nothing for a long moment, then inclined his head once. "We shall see," he said, voice almost a whisper. Their eyes met for another long moment, grey so dark it was almost black and a warm coffee brown.

"I'll be missed in my dorm," she said finally. "Goodnight, Severus."

_She's grown now,_ he reminded himself. _She's a child no longer. _"Goodnight, Hermione."

* * *

**And so ends Chapter Eight and Part One. **

**SO: About this chapter. I wanted Hermione to be involved in one way, and I wanted to save Cedric for reasons that might become evident eventually. Also, I believe in consequences and the Law of Equality for Fanfiction. Some of you were expecting Hermione to swoop in and save the day and win, but she couldn't. She needed to learn that she was vulnerable, that she can't take on the world, that she can be hurt despite her training. Also, it's made Hermione grow up. She needed to experience that kind of fear and terror and her own mortality before she could ever begin to understand Severus. **

**The first names are a big step for our two heros. Part One, Hermione growing up, is over. Part Two is about to begin. She is now an adult, who can make adult decisions and fall in love, like an adult. Of course she'd hate to admit it to herself and Severus is even more bothersome about it.**

**For those who care about the personal life of the author: So, I got the job. I'm a bit terrified, because this is my first ever job, and because it's seems hard and there are so many ways for me to mess up. I'm tutoring kids in math and if I make a mistake I might impact their future forever and... gah. The entire thing just makes me feel sick to my stomach. So now my vision of how the next year was going to go has changed and I don't even know how to deal and I'm just nervous and a bit of a wreck. And also I didn't get accepted to a program I desperately wanted to go to for a college and I feel like bit of a stupid little failure and so I've had a bad week. Curling into ball and crying did not help, so I stopped that and wrote a lot and moped. **

**Chapter Nine (the first chapter of Part Two!) shall arrive on Friday, as usual. I don't know how long I can keep up the regular posting, but for now you can count on a Friday update. Chapter Eighteen took a twist I wasn't expecting... the chapters are going to be longer from here on out. Part Two has longer chapters. But Eighteen is done! :)**

**And thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter (so many of you!) because your reviews made me smile and cheered me up. Hugs.**

**ALSO: There is fanart for this chapter done by tumblr user theloneliesttimeline! It is of Severus carrying Hermione off when they land and it is beautiful. You can find the link on my profile page. **


	9. Chapter 9

**I hope everyone had a wonderful week. Mine got better- thank you very much to those who had kind words.**

**In excellent news, we now have a Hermione who is significantly grown and matured to the point where she and Severus can _begin_ to have feelings for one another. But the romance will be long. Very long. And I will no longer be jumping around as much- I'm serious, we get ten more chapters and Hermione is still in fifth year. Be prepared for longer chapters and more direct time.**

**This is one of my favorite chapters. :) Enjoy.**

**And now we start Part Two!**

_**Part Two**_

_**Chapter 9**_

"How are you coping?" Snape asked quietly, appearing behind her. Hermione, who was stirring a cup of what looked like hot chocolate, did not flinch. She had enough control over her reflexes for that- but not to stop her hands from shaking. The kitchen of Safe House Three was empty in the middle of the night.

Severus was worried about her. In turn, this worried him. He was Severus Snape- he did not worry about other people. He worried about how their stupidity was going to affect the rest of the god-damn Wizarding world and therefore his life. But the woman in front of him, divested of her Glamour, had occupied his thoughts lately.

The sky outside the kitchen windows was dark, and in the soft candlelight, Hermione Granger looked tired. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and the absence of the mass of curls made her look both older and more vulnerable. As she turned to face him, he noticed that her collarbones stuck out sharply when she crossed her arms- _weight loss? _There were shadows under her eyes, and the light dusting of freckles along her nose stood out against the paleness of her skin.

Hermione held the warm mug tightly, raising it to her lips and taking a small sip. "I'm not sleeping well," she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes. "My dreams-" She stopped herself, taking another sip of the hot chocolate. "I'm alright, though. I'm worried about Harry."

It pained him to see her this way. "Hermione," he said commandingly, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she still kept her head to the side, he reached out, lightly brushing the side of her jaw. Gently, he turned her head until she was looking into his eyes. "They do go away." _Or they're replaced with worse nightmares, but you don't need to know that right now._

In a flash, her eyes burned with anger. "It's been a month. Every time I close my eyes I see them. And I can't even _fight _to work it out of this because Madam Pomfrey _still_ won't clear me!" Her back was still healing- the spell Voldemort had used was persistent and had some nasty surprises.

"Hermione," he said again, folding his arms across his chest now that he was confident that she would behave. "Come with me." And he swept down the hall, allowing his robes to flair out behind him. He didn't look back to see if she followed him- he knew she would.

With a sigh, Hermione took a long sip from her mug and set it down in the sink, a small part of her wincing with guilt at leaving it for the house elves. As always, she brushed it away and hurried after her Potions Professor, wondering in the back of his mind how he made his robes flair like that. _It must be a Slytherin thing,_ she decided. _Draco's a prick and Pansy's a pug, but they always look… perfect. Unfair. _She glanced down at her pajamas- a ratty short sleeved T-shirt and a pair of shorts. _Really, really unfair. I need to talk to Andromeda about the art of looking sophisticated._

They stopped at the door the training room, where Severus paused. "Do you have your knives?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes," Hermione said, following him into the gym and slipping off her shoes. "I don't go anywhere without them." She lifted the hem of her loose shirt, showing him the dark leather of the knife sheath.

"Good," Severus said, taking out his wand. "That is an excellent habit to have. Now, do you mind if I do a brief diagnostic spell on your back?" She turned around, and he swished his wand slowly. "If you wish, we can spar," Snape said haltingly. "If you feel any pain, we can stop."

Hermione turned around, a feral grin on her face. "Let's see who stops first, old man," she taunted lightheartedly, the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. "I have been waiting for this for weeks!"

Severus snorted elegantly, rolling his eyes. "I have twenty years of experience on you. Mere enthusiasm cannot hold against twenty years of practice for long." He began to unbutton his robes.

Hermione stuck out her tongue at him, unstrapping her knives. "I've been training since I've was… thirteen… and now I'm eighteen… so that makes only fifteen years of experience on me. And since your birthday is in January, that's really only like fourteen and a half, so-"

"For Heaven's sake, be quiet," Severus said with a sigh. "Or people will stop asking you questions and stare because they've never seen a talking encyclopedia before." He tossed his robes to the ground, taking his own knives in his hands. _How does she know when my birthday is?_

Hermione sighed in her head. _Just a white button down shirt and black trousers and he looks good,_ she mentally grumbled. The Potions Master was coming alive with the light of the fight as well, a predatory gleam in his eye belaying his calm, almost bored, expression. He cast a light shielding charm at his throat and face, as did Hermione.

They circled each other for a moment, before Hermione lunged for his throat. He twisted out of the way, slashing his own knife down at her back. She dropped to the floor and rolled, swinging one leg out to trip him. The expression of surprise on his face was priceless as he fell to the ground. Immediately, she straddled his back, pressing her knife blade to the back of his neck.

"I win," she said smugly. "Wanna play again?" _Twenty years' experience, my arse,_ was written all over her face. He couldn't see it, however, from his position on the floor.

She hopped up, grinning inordinately wide. Severus was scowling furiously, brushing his clothes off with as much dignity as he could muster. "Impertinent chit," he growled.

Their second duel lasted far longer than the first, Severus attempting to use his superior strength and Hermione her nimbleness and agility. Severus won that one, getting behind her, and putting both knives to her throat. The third duel was again his, but for the fourth Hermione managed to kick him in the kidneys and then 'stab' him in the heart.

He delighted in the purity of the action, the glorious dance of life and death. She was so quick, so limber. His breath caught at her dark innocence, the untamed wildness of the girl. In another life, he mused, she must have been a fey queen, a warrior princess, a lady knight. She laughed as she bent backwards and sprang up again, not a tinkling of bells but a release of joy at being alive and fast enough to live another day. His musings ended when she caught her knife on his arm, drawing a thin line of red blood.

In turn, she reveled in the loosening of the 'Professor Snape' persona, the freeing of the man within. His teeth were bared in a savage smile, one of the strangest expressions she had ever seen, but one that seemed right on his face. He was utterly silent as he fought, eyes laughing as he ducked a high kick or carelessly batted aside a swipe of her knife.

At last the two collapsed into hastily conjured chairs, breathing hard. Hermione's back was on fire, but for the first time in weeks she felt normal again. She let her head loll against the back of the chair, and sighed. "Thank you," she said, a small smile gracing her face. "I feel better now." Happy, and so tired. The pleasant ache from exercise was settling in her muscles, feeding her weariness.

"That was the purpose of this," Severus said smoothly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but voice still sounding like honey. "Do you honestly think I'd let a Gryffindor, and a tiny one at that beat me up in the wee hours of the morning for any other reason?" Wry humor echoed in his voice, a rare occasion. Most of his humor was either sarcastic or incredulous. Even so, it always made her smile.

"You like getting beat up by tiny Gryffindors," Hermione retorted, brushing back a few curls from her slowly cooling face. "But imagine if Harry or Ron saw that!" She started laughing, wheezing out amused giggles.

Severus sneered at her, something that Hermione was beginning to recognize as his version of sticking out his tongue, if Severus Snape could think of doing something like sticking out his tongue. "If Potter or Weasley saw me fighting, I would be saving their lives." A hint of arrogance fitted him perfectly.

"True," Hermione conceded. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that." They both knew it would. The two were quiet for a few moments longer, resting their tired limbs. Severus had enjoyed the fight- it was not often he got to spar with someone nearing his level of competency.

The silence stretched on, until Severus sat up straight and stretched, saying, "Hermione Granger, silent? You must be dead, dying, or-" he opened his eyes, expecting a comment from the Gryffindor. "Sleeping," he finished with a sigh. "And now I suppose _I _need to get you to your room because to wake you up after working so hard to get you to sleep would be cruel."

Severus unclasped Hermione's sheaths, tucking her knives away and picking up the slight girl. Her weight was foreign in his arms- Severus wasn't in the habit of carrying young women to their beds. Her warmth, the faint smell of flowery soap and clean sweat, the little sighs that puffed from her mouth, all of these were strange to the stern man.

He reached her room and opened the door with a whispered word, mindful of Tonks sleeping across the hall. She was already in her pajamas, so he whispered a quick cleaning spell and pulled the blankets up around her. She looked peaceful in her sleep, Severus decided. _She looks like she is still innocent. Like she wasn't forced to kill a man. _

He stood at the side of her bed for a moment longer, then left the room and the Safe House.

* * *

Dementors. In Little Whinging.

Hermione was spitting mad- pacing and shouting in a tight circle in the gym at the Safe House as Severus looked on, a hint of an amused smile on his face.

"Who sends bloody Dementors to a Muggle neighborhood? The fucking incompetence of the Ministry is usually a bloody mess, but this loss of control is nothing short of disastrous! What? Did they just get so tired of having their heads permanently attached to someone else's arse that they decided to try sticking their bleeding craniums up their own arseholes?"

A low chuckle escaped Severus' mouth. It was quiet and husky, snarky in its own way. It was enough to stop Hermione in her tracks because it was awfully endearing.

Slowly, she put her hands down, anger dimming. "Something amusing you?" she asked, pushing annoyance to the forefront of her mind- he would probably be embarrassed and never laugh in front of her again if she made any other kind of mention about it.

"Your vocabulary and syntax has Nymphadora Tonks written all over it," Severus informed her wryly. "Are you through?"

Hermione blinked, then nodded. "Yep," she said, nodding again. "Alright. Who do you think did it?" Her stride became lithe and predatory as she crossed the room to lean on the same wall Severus had used to observe her. They were face to face, close enough for Hermione to feel the light touch of his breath on her face.

On Severus' part, he thought she looked gloriously dangerous when thoroughly pissed off- she was all Hermione, wild dark hair and pale skin with glittering eyes narrowed into thin slits. Normally, when mad, she looked like a hissing kitten, not this being of destruction and vengeance.

But he just smirked at her, thin amusement dancing behind his eyes, a grey so dark they were black. "I didn't invest so much time and so many books in you to do all the work myself, did I?" he drawled, nodding once at her. "Your theories first."

He half expected her to make a snarky comment about his aging mind, but she just retreated deeper into her mind, turning the problem around and examining it from multiple angles. Her brow furrowed and her expression softened, the rage melting off her face to make way for an intelligent, thoughtful expression.

"Who wants Harry dead?" she muttered. "Death Eaters, the Dark Lord. They would have attacked outright. But who wants him injured or soulless? The Ministry would love to have something like this- but it's too perfect for that cesspool of human ignorance to come up with. Harry would either have to leave his cousin, painting him as a cowardly muggle-hater, lose against the Dementors, which takes care of the entire problem, or fight back, which was the most likely option with his temper and hero complex. If he did lose his temper, that would violate the Statute for the Reasonable Restrictions on Underage Sorcery. The Ministry would be able to say they never authorized any Dementors to Little Whinging, and Harry would be branded a liar which would further discredit him."

Although his face was impassive, Severus was shaking his head with amazement in the privacy of his own mind. She was brilliant.

Hermione looked up, a look of deep concentration on her face. "We're looking for an up-and-coming someone at the Ministry, someone who would like to get in the Minister's good graces. He or she would have to have the authority to send out the Dementors and then cover it up. If it is a man, I'd say young and ambitious, like Percy Weasley. If it's a woman, she's either too self-respecting or too ugly to go at it the easy way."

That caught him off guard. "The easy way?" he repeated, mulling over her conclusion in his head. It made sense- except for that last part.

"Yeah," Hermione said, looking away and flushing suddenly. "You know. Ankles in the air. A pretty woman can get anywhere but the absolute top if she uses her looks from what I've seen of the Wizarding World."

"And you would know?" Severus asked slowly, deliberately, his anger growing.

She was still looking away. "Of course not, Severus. I said pretty girls." She finally met his eyes, her own defiant. He didn't say anything. "Mrs. Weasley needed me to help with the downstairs bathroom at Headquarters and I need to do another rotation." She walked out of the room, all the previous confidence gone.

Severus sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly.

* * *

Half-way into July, Hermione had begun to use her Time Turner in earnest, using it to split her time between the Safe House and Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was dusty and derelict, a faded glory of an Ancient and Noble House. Sirius was miserable there, and Hermione sympathized with him. The Marauder didn't have a Time Turner, however, so he was stuck playing man of the house. Or rather, dangerous criminal of the dirty Headquarters.

Hermione's more formal lessons had ceased- she no longer received instruction from Andromeda Tonks, Kingsley was staying under the radar at the Ministry, and she only got to see her Hogwarts professors on occasion. They were all busy with various projects- McGonagall and Flitwick were working on strengthening the school's defense for example. The two invited her to watch them for the first few days, when they were removing and replacing sections of the warding. She promptly returned to the Safe House and warded her bedroom against possible Death Eater invasions to practice. Dobby had to find her and beg permission to tidy the small space.

So Hermione's time at Safe House Three was spent reading and researching, sparring and dueling with Tonks and Snape, and having long discussions with Remus. Every few days, Snape would stop by around tea time, and the two would sequester themselves in a small sitting room to the side and argue wildly on a variety of subjects. Their topics ranged from Potions to Muggle politics, jumped between Dark magic to European dictators, and touched lightly (or not so lightly) on biochemistry and wandless magic. Hermione lived for those days- while Remus was nice enough to talk to, he didn't have Severus' biting wit, acerbic comments, or grudging insult-wrapped praise when she made a particularly good point.

But at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Hermione was miserable. When she wasn't laboring to clear away the pests and dust, she was putting up with both Ronald and Molly Weasley. The former was interested in copying her summer homework and hearing what had happened in the graveyard; the latter was determined to see her youngest son and Hermione together and was therefore pushing them together every chance she got. Ginny was sympathetic at least, but she wasn't quite the same as Tonks. The Auror and Hermione had grown quite close, but since they couldn't explain how they had known each other for years, they had to act as if they had just met and hit it off.

As much as she disliked denying the friendship, Hermione loved the opportunity to practice subterfuge, even subterfuge as simple as a bit of acting. She balanced her two 'sides,' carefully- Harry and Ron and Ginny never knew that she was sneaking off, let alone where she was sneaking off to. There was Hermione, the over-achieving student who loved books and was waiting eagerly for school to start again. And then there was Hermione, the woman-girl who loved to fight with knives and spells, who slipped into the bathroom to go back in time and duel or debate with her Potions Professor.

At least she had the light advantage of knowing what was really doing on when the Order met behind the kitchen doors. Severus and Albus had inducted her into the Order early in the summer, a small ceremony in the Headmaster's office. With a twist of her hourglass and a few disguising spells, Hermione was able to sit in on the meetings.

Which was what she was currently doing- sitting in on a meeting of the Inner Circle. Her other self was outside the door, listening halfheartedly with Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron. If she squinted, she could make out the fleshy Extendable Ears peeping under the door.

"When can the advance guard go for him?" demanded Sirius once again. "Harry needs to be at the Ministry on the twelfth for his trial. And it would do him more good to be here, around friends rather than his god-awful relatives."

Albus peered at the angry man, projecting his familiar air of grandfatherly disapproval. "Sirius, Harry must remain at his aunt's house for another two days. However, Severus and I have come up with a plan to evacuate him safely."

"Then we want to hear this plan," Remus said quietly, but firmly. Many heads nodded, agreeing with the werewolf.

Severus glanced around the table, dark eyes dispassionate. "An Advance Guard will arrive at Potter's house in the evening, and escort him to Headquarters. Simple as that. Mad-Eye will lead the Guard. Who wants to volunteer?" He sneered at the last sentence, as if he was expecting everyone to volunteer and was trying to discourage as many of them as he could.

Plenty of hands rose, and Severus sighed. "We are not sending the entire Inner Circle to rescue Potter," he snarled. "Tonks, Lupin, and Kingsley, take Doge, Vance, Podmore, Jones, and Diggle. Make sure they knew that you, as members of the Inner Circle, are in charge. You are competent enough to handle this."

Tonks, unfazed by his bad mood, winked at him. "And our favorite little lioness?" she asked, glancing over in Hermione's direction. "Will she come along?"

Severus looked over at Hermione, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head. "Too risky," she explained, in a voice far rougher than her normal tone. "And there is flying involved. Unless you want me falling off my broom onto some poor soul's roof, I'd best stay here, Severus."

The Potions Master nodded, then turned back to the planning. The Order members whispered among themselves briefly, until Snape's glare made them fall silent once more. "Then we plan for two days' time," he said harshly. "Tonks, can you figure out a way to lure that awful woman and her whales out of the house?"

The Auror nodded slowly, surprised at the level of venom in his voice. "I'll get to it," she said warily. "What time?"

"Evening," Moody said gruffly. "We fly under the cover of the night. We should get here in time for a late dinner, if you will, Molly."

The round woman nodded, pleased to be able to help for once. "I'll push back supper an hour, Alastor," she said. "Will that be enough?"

The group continued to work out logistics, before moving to the more serious topics, namely the prophecy. When Severus directed a pointed glance in her direction, Hermione cast a discreet spell at the Ears. The twins had been kind enough to show her exactly how they made them. She had offered to solve a glitch in invisibility spells and installed a glitch of her own at the same time. Now all the children waiting outside the door would hear a conversation on the rotating schedule for guarding Harry rather than anything important.

"What new information do you have about the how the prophecy is guarded?" asked Sirius, leaning back in his chair, cocky as ever. His eyes were wary, but his tone held a hint of a challenge.

_Heaven protect me from simple people who wish to know things beyond their ken,_ Severus thought with a sigh. "Nothing you need to know, Black," he snapped. "Just more information on the technical aspect. I don't believe you would understand how a difference in a rune can change the entire protection system."

Black obviously did not know, and was gearing up for a fight when Dumbledore intervened. "The Ministry intends to plant an informant in Hogwarts this year," the Headmaster interrupted, kindly. "Her name is Dolores Umbridge and she is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

Kingsley frowned, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "I know her," he said in his low melodic voice. "She's the Undersecretary to the Minister. She's a strong supporter of Pureblood rights, and her influence in the Ministry is one of reasons our friend Remus has such a hard life."

"She has been the one to pass most of the anti-werewolf legislation in the last ten years," Hermione added, drawing surprised glances. She usually didn't talk much during the Order meetings. "Along with prohibitive measures against what she calls 'half-breeds' and 'lower life forms.'"

"Unfortunately, she is our best option," Dumbledore informed them with a sigh. "But there arises a problem in all of this. The Ministry has been working very hard so far to cover up any sign of Voldemort's return. We fear that she will begin spreading rumors and lies about the school of my incompetence and Harry's mental state. Please try to encourage those around you to see the truth, as long as it not a risk to your own wellbeing."

Soon after, the meeting ended, members of the Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix spilling from the kitchen and Apparating off into the night. Severus remained behind, as did Hermione. The two of them waited until all but the Weasleys and Tonks remained in the kitchen.

"Goodbye, Molly, Arthur," Hermione said politely, pulling on a cloak. "I'll see you next week." The couple nodded back. Few in the Order knew her true identity; she was just another member to them, albeit one who was neither tall nor talkative.

She waited on the stoop for Severus. It was safer to go in pairs, now. They would Apparate to an alley in London, and from there go to Wales, before he would take her inside the illusion of the cottage.

He appeared a moment later, tall and solemn next to her. The door shut behind him with a bang, a force of the cold and misty summer that had fallen upon England. There were two gas lamps on either side of the stoop, flickering in the damp. Hermione caught herself looking at how the light played on the features of the Potions Master, highlighting the severity of his features.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, almost cordially. At Hermione's nod, he smiled slightly. "Same alley as last time," he instructed, before disappearing with a pop.

Hermione followed, spinning on her heel and concentrating fiercely on her destination. She knew she was in the right place when the acrid smells of rotting garbage and cigarette smoke assaulted her nose. Severus was beside her, wand still out. Two shadows peeled off from the clusters lining the brick buildings to stand in front of them. Hermione could sense movement behind her, and judged that others had done the same.

She sank into a fighting stance, the wand she was keeping a good grip on ready to whip into the motions of a Stunner. In the light, the shadows turned into men, thick bodied and wearing long cloaks and masks.

"Hullo, traitor," one of them greeted Snape cheerfully. "Got a little girlfriend with you?" He leered at Hermione, who resisted the urge to shiver and lean into Severus.

Snape's upper lip curled in a snarl. "Archon. Did you lose your brain or sell it for liquor? The Dark Lord-"

"You have no right to call him the Dark Lord," hissed another of the men, this one short and bulky with muscle. He was the only one not wearing a mask. His bald head gleamed in the scant moonlight, a mild coating of perspiration making it shine.

"As I was saying," Snape said snappishly, glancing down at Hermione, "The Dark Lord was most pleased with the way I never abandoned my post." He was buying her time, Hermione realized. Silently, she cast small tripping jinxes in the area around the men, and exhaled a wind-moving spell. It would work slowly, but would bring all the mist and fog toward her, and therefore, Severus.

He has stopped talking, as had the two men in front of them. From what Hermione could gather from the conversation, their names were Archon and Gibbons. Now they too were gearing up for a fight.

"You cannot escape us, Snape. Bellatrix has told us of your lies. You never suffered for the Dark Lord," one of the ones behind them purred, giving Hermione just cause to turn around like a scared rabbit to face them. It appeared that one of them was a woman- red hair was piled on her head, and she had a distinctly curvy frame.

She raised her wand higher, managing to nudge Snape with her elbow. Three seconds later, they attacked. Hermione sent a vicious Bone-Breaker in the woman's direction, then Conjured a wooden block to take the impact of the Killing Curse the other Death Eater had thrown at her. In a sudden moment, she was glad they had taught her how to fight protecting another person. Her first instinct was to dodge, which would have allowed the curse to hit Severus square in the back.

The female Death Eater down, Hermione sent an Entrail-Expelling Curse at the other one she was facing. He dodged as she had anticipated, right into a powerful Stunner. She whirled around to help Snape, only to see him calmly fell the last of their opponents.

They looked at each other for a moment, breathing barely strained. "Are you injured, Hermione?" Severus asked haltingly.

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "What now?" she asked, glancing down at the bodies scattered around the alley.

"We dispose of them," Severus said quietly. "Are the ones you fought dead?"

Hermione fought the urge to flush like a twelve year old. "One is just Stunned," she admitted. "The other one- the woman- I hit her in the chest with a Bone-Breaker. Her ribs had to have punctured her lungs and heart."

Severus stalked over to examine the bodies, turning over the woman with the red hair. "Alcott," he murmured. "Damn you, girl. You had half a mind- you could have made something of yourself." He moved on to the next one. "Redd. You, on the other hand, were as intelligent as a doorknob. I don't see much difference now." He sighed, then reached into his robes and withdrew a shrunken potions kit. He expanded it, withdrew a small vial of a milky substance, and dropped three drops into Redd's mouth. He waited a few moments, then checked his pulse. "Dead," he announced.

"What do we do with the bodies?" Hermione asked, willing her voice not to tremble.

Severus gave her a strangely sympathetic look- but a look that would have appeared no different to his normal face to any other person. "We take a page out of Barty Crouch's book and Transfigure the bodies. Bones should be easy enough."

They worked quietly, incanting under their breaths and gathering up the five Transfigured bones. Without a word, Severus offered her his arm, Apparating them to an abandoned beach. The sea roared and pounded at the abandoned shore, scattered with sand dunes covered with long grass and reeds. The salty wind whipped her hair, and with a start Hermione realized that she hadn't lost her concentration- it was still a straw blonde color. _Strange how I'm thinking about my hair color when I've just killed a woman,_ Hermione thought, absentmindedly following Severus to a hollow between dunes. She let the Glamour drop.

He used magic to shift a hole in the sand, dropping the bones in and allowing Hermione to do the same with the ones she carried before releasing the sand with a solid thump. They shone in the moonlight, the bones, and Hermione's mind flashed back to the bald man, and the way his head reflected the moon.

"Hermione?" The unusually gentle voice of her professor snapped her back to full attention.

She turned her wide brown eyes on him. "Yes?"

"You were brave tonight," he said after a pause. "You helped, you kept your head, and you held your own. More importantly, you watched my back. You are a credit to your teachers." _I'm going soft in my old age,_ Severus thought to himself. _I'll be thirty-six this year. And thinking about my age is helping me avoid thinking about the one topic I do not want to think about. _

The seriousness of the moment held in the air for a moment. "Thank you," Hermione replied. "Why did they come after you?"

She almost regretted asking when his face tightened almost imperceptibly. "Bellatrix believes that I am not loyal to the Dark Lord. The crazy bitch is right, of course, which makes lying to her harder. But tonight was helpful. No one escaped alive to say I had help, and it will likely deter her from sending more lackeys after me. If I had had to choose a time to be attacked by idiotic thugs, this would have been it." His eyes flashed over at hers, dark in the reflected moon off the sea. "Two wands are better than one, especially when you have thrice that pointed at you."

Hermione breathed out slowly, letting go of most of the tension that was still in her body. For some reason, his comment had made her feel happier, lighter. She fought the urge to grin widely at him, clearing her throat and asking, "To the Safe House now?" in a voice as normal as she could manage.

"Yes," Severus said. "If you would…" she accepted his arm, and let him Side-Along her to the illusion. It was a complicated thing to do- and Hermione hadn't yet gotten her official Apparation license, so it was easier for everyone involved if Snape Apparated her through the illusion. She was tired and if she Splinched she didn't want to have to explain herself to anyone. It was comforting in a way- trusting him. Hermione Granger didn't trust very many people.

But she trusted Severus Snape.

* * *

Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place cold and hungry from the long broom ride and surrounded with an aura of something Hermione could only define as angst.

She ran to him, throwing her arms around Harry just to reassure herself that he was alright. The Dementor attacks couldn't have helped with his mental state- she had been buzzing with nervous tension for the last week and she hadn't been stagnating in Little Whinging for a week.

At first, it seemed as if he would just stand there like a log as she attempted to squeeze the living daylights out of him; however, Harry soon grabbed her as tightly as she was hugging him. She knew why- she saw him dead in her nightmares and she was sure he had been seeing her corpse in his dreams.

"It's good to see you, Hermione," he said after a minute. "I-" He flushed. "It's good to see you."

She gave him an understanding smile, patting his arm nicely. "You too, Harry. I'm sorry our letters were useless- Dumbledore didn't want us saying anything important in case they were intercepted."

A brief frown swept over Harry's face. "What-"

"Harry!" Ginny appeared from the top of the staircase. "You're here!" The perky redhead grinned down at them over the railing. "Come on up, Ron's waiting upstairs!"

More talk was saved for later, as Harry was taken up to his room. He glanced at the walls with a distaste that was obvious to Hermione, who pretended not to notice. Ron gave him a manly slug on the shoulder, and Ginny hugged him daintily. The siblings chatted incessantly, either ignoring or not picking up on Harry's swiftly darkening mood.

Hermione kept a cautious eye one him- mentally bracing herself for the coming explosion. Ron was in the midst of a detailed account of the Cannon's latest 'almost win' when Hermione nudged Ginny. The girl looked at her with questioning eyes, and Hermione nodded toward the door. Ginny frowned, but took the hint, rising from the bed and leaving the shabby room.

When the door clicked shut behind her, Harry finally exploded. "HOW CAN YOU JUST SIT HERE AND ACT LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?"

Ron was flabbergasted, eyes almost comically wide. "Harry-"

"NO!" Harry shouted. "VOLDEMORT IS BACK AND ALL YOU CAN TALK ABOUT IS QUIDDITCH!"

He looked ready to go on, but Hermione stood up and fixed him with her sternest glare. "Harry!" That stopped him in his tracks, fury still etched on his face. "Stop. Now."

"Why?" Harry asked resentfully, but with much less volume. "I've been cooped up on Privet Drive all summer while you and Ron are at the thick of everything. I come in, and all you can talk about is a losing Quidditch team! All I want to know is what is going on!"

Ron glanced at Hermione, then spoke. "It's not like we know anything either, mate," he said warily. "We haven't been allowed to sit in on meetings, or anything."

Hermione held out a hand, but Harry erupted again. "SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEY'S FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT- WHO SAVED THE SORCERER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM DEMENTORS?"

"Harry!" Hermione said again when he stopped for air. "Think about what you are saying." Her glare hardened as she advanced on her friend. "Yes, we've been together. We have been cleaning every waking moment to try and make this place fit for human habitation. Yes, you've handled more than Ron or I have ever managed. But remember that you cannot claim all responsibility all of our- our adventures over the years."

Harry looked slightly cowed at that. However, it wasn't in his nature to back down from a fight immediately, especially if Hermione was the one he was fighting with. His face screwed up again, and he turned a bit redder. "I've faced Voldemort-"

"So have I," Hermione snapped back at him, not giving Harry time to get started again. "Do you remember me screaming at your feet? Throwing myself in front of the curses so you would live?" Some part of her felt guilty at the guilt she was making him feel, but another, more vindictive side, was taking a vicious pleasure at the releasing of anger.

Now Harry's face was covered in guilt. "Hermione, I-"

"Who played the chess game that let you through to the troll, Harry?" Hermione demanded, stalking forward and backing him against a wall. "Who fought the troll with you? Who solved Snape's riddle? Who discovered Slytherin's Monster was a basilisk? Who went with you to fight the bloody thing? Who ran through the Triwzard maze to try and warn you about the Dark Lord? Who begged him to spare you and take her instead?"

Ron was staring in amazement, seeing Harry backing away from a slip of a girl. Granted, that girl looked fierce, eyes alight with a cold sort of burning rage that made Ron shiver slightly. Harry looked as if he was regretting his earlier words, but Hermione was having none of it.

"Yes, you are the Boy-Who-Lived, and yes, you've done more than any of us. But don't forget that you've had help, Harry." The anger dissipated from Hermione's face, and she regarded him with a calm expression.

Harry looked down at her sheepishly. "I know, Hermione. I'm sorry. I'm just- upset."

"I know," Hermione said, hugging him again. "Just don't forget those who've helped you along with way." When they parted, the compassion in her eyes made something in Harry relax. He knew that she forgave him.

Hermione led him over to the bed, and sat down next to him. "How have you been dealing with everything, Harry?" she asked him seriously. "Are you having bad dreams, or flashbacks, or anything of the sort?"

Shocked, Harry nodded. "Yeah- I've been dreaming about it. How'd you-" He flushed, glancing down to the side guiltily. "Oh. Yeah."

"We can talk later," Hermione said comfortingly, stopping herself from glancing at Ron. The boy was absurdly jealous of the connection Harry and Hermione shared from their experience in the graveyard. No matter how many times Hermione repeated that it was not something either of them would want repeated, Ron would not let go of his jealousy.

Harry threw her a grateful look. "Thanks, Mione."

"No problem," she replied, winking at him. "I'm here for you." Their eyes met in a moment, tortured emerald meeting comforting honey. "No matter what."

* * *

**And so ends Chapter Nine.**

**As you can see, a good chunk of Harry's rage was taken directly from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, _with edits for the change of events.  
**

**I'm very glad that almost everyone who reviewed understood what I was trying to do with the last chapter, in terms of Hermione's growth. Here, again, I did the same thing. Hermione has to become a fighter, and in she hit two bird with one stone: she proved to herself that she can handle an everyday dangerous situation, and she truly proved herself to Severus.  
**

**For those who haven't seen it, tumblr user thelonliesttimeline made FANART for this story (I shall now love her forever) and the link can be found on my author's page since fanfiction eats links and removing spaces is annoying. It is seriously great- she drew the part where Severus picks up Hermione to take her to the hospital wing. Go check it out, it is _lovely._**

**For those who care about the author's personal life: Things are definitely looking up. The job is still intimidating (it's the first time they've ever hired a teenager and they seem nervous about it too) and I swallowed my pride and wrote a nice letter to the program thanking them for considering me. And then I kind of realized that school starts in 19 freaking days and I have moutains of summer homework to do. Gulp.  
**

**Thank you for reading, and comments are, as always, appreciated. See you next Friday!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I hope everyone had a good week! Now that it is Friday*, I present you with another Chapter of _For the Only Hope._**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! (We're almost to 200!) Quick question answer time: My author's page is my bio, which can be found by clicking my name up top, yes there will be M rated scenes later, for me school starts the first week of August. **

**I'm glad so many of you loved the scene when Hermione puts Harry in his place. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**_Chapter 10_**

The first night Harry slept at Grimmauld Place, he woke up screaming. Hermione was at his side in a minute, and he willingly grabbed on to her and refused to let go. "It's okay now," she told him, gently running her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "You're alright now."

"You were dead," Harry whispered, clinging to her like a drowning man. "He killed you." There was desperation in his voice, the kind that spoke to Hermione about how much he truly cared about her. She felt a wave of tenderness toward this small, scared man-child, and hugged him closer.

_Oh, Harry. How many times is this man going to ruin your life?_ "No, Harry. No, he didn't," Hermione whispered back. "I'm here."

"What is going on here?" demanded a rumpled Mrs. Weasley, clad in a pink dressing gown and worn slippers. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry ignored her, but Hermione answered the matron's question. "He'll be fine soon, Mrs. Weasley," she called out. "He had a nightmare."

The woman frowned. "I don't think it is appropriate for you to be in his bed-"

"I disagree, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said in a warning tone. "On the contrary, it is very appropriate." Her eyes reminded the woman that she had faced down Voldemort, and spat at his feet. The Order had heard parts of the tale, what Dumbledore had seen fit to tell them. And Hermione could be intimidating when she wanted to be.

Ron looked on with sleepy eyes, confusion and a sense of unease growing in the boy. "Hermione. You're-" he stopped talking at the look on Hermione's face. Ginny, awakened by Harry's screams and Hermione's departure, poked her head in the room.

Hermione kept her eyes locked with Mrs. Weasley's. "I'll come and get you when he feels better, Mrs. Weasley," she said, a clear dismissal. The older woman, stiffened, but turned to leave, shutting the door and ushering her daughter back down the hall.

Harry's breathing gradually slowed, and his iron tight grip on Hermione loosened. "I'm- sorry, Hermione." He was a little red, glancing up at her.

"No problem, Harry," Hermione said. "Do you think you can go back to sleep now?" She hoped he could read the sympathy in her eyes. It was obvious he was drawing comfort from the contact, but she withdrew when he nodded.

She bent down, and kissed him on the forehead. She brushed her wand with her fingers, and with a whispered word and a much practiced spell, Hermione cleaned the sweat-soaked covers and drew them up around Harry's chin, kneeling by the bed. He did not notice the new freshness, or if he did, he did not say anything. "Goodnight, Harry. We'll have that talk tomorrow."

"Alright," said the sleepy savior. "See you tomorrow, Hermione."

Hermione smiled down on him gently, then turned that same smile on Ron. "I'll be off, then," she said as she stood cautiously. When she rose too fast after sitting for a long while, her injury would send twinges of protest up her back.

Outside the room, Mrs. Weasley was nowhere to be seen. However, a lanky Potions Master was leaning against the wall next to Harry's door. He just regarded her with his grey eyes, staying silent as she eased the door shut.

"Well?" he asked in a low voice, gaze intense and face hardened.

She sighed, leaning against the wall herself. "Do you want to talk about this here, or somewhere else?"

He turned around abruptly, stalking off in the direction of the stairs. She took that as a 'somewhere else,' wishing she could duck into her room quickly to grab her over robe before potentially leaving the Headquarters. It didn't matter though. Not really.

However, instead of leading her from the dark house, Severus instead stopped at a door on the fourth floor, far away from the rooms held by the rest of the Weasleys. He opened the door and with a quick, annoyed sweep of his hand, gestured her inside. She stepped into the room, looking around discreetly as he followed her and shut the door behind the both of them.

The room was Spartan; a middling-size bed took up one corner, placed in such a way that the person opening the door wouldn't see the occupant of the bed, but he would see them. A chest of drawers stood against the wall, and on the opposite corner of the room was a portable Potions Lab. Some potions were steadily bubbling way- Severus Snape was the Order's resident Potions Master after all.

There was no place to sit; instead, she stood uncomfortable in the center of the room, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around herself. It was Severus. She had nothing to fear from him. So she let her hands dangle at her sides, a sprinkling of gooseflesh working its way up from her elbows.

And speaking of Severus… he was shrugging off his over robe, obviously slipped on to make himself 'presentable' enough to observe the commotion unseen. Under it, he wore his customary button down white shirt and black slacks.

He scowled at her. Her heart skipped a beat, either from fear or something else. "So?"

"He had a bad dream," Hermione said quietly. "He woke up screaming-"

"I knew that," he snapped. "I do have ears. He hasn't found a way to cope?" For all his annoyance, Hermione could detect a hint of worry in his tone.

She shook her head. "No, but we are going to work on that. What worries me is what I saw. I did some surface Legilimency, just a brush to see what the dream was about."

Interest changed his face. Curiosity was not only a trait of Hermione's, it seemed. "Not what happened with the Dark Lord?"

"That was there, but it was not everything," Hermione said flippantly, giving him a look that read, _of course it had to do with what happened with the Dark Lord. _"But it was what was happening before that dream that's got me confused. It's a room- and a door-" she gave a frustrated sigh. "What if I just show it to you?"

His eyes blazed at her, strangely vulnerable. "I don't have a Penseive. I would have to invade your mind." He had stopped the Occlumency lessons months ago, explaining it in his usual manner. _If you can hold the Dark Lord away from your mind, you need no further lessons. However, if you slack off in practice, I will find out and I will treat you accordingly. _

She shrugged. "I don't care." She didn't, really. If there was one person she didn't mind being- well, being inside her mind, it would be Severus Snape.

"You don't understand what you just said," Severus said quickly, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Your mind is your own, you don't let other people in. That's the _purpose_ of Occlumency. To keep people out. If you give a skilled Legilimens a way through your defenses, they could wreak havoc in your mindscape and you would be powerless to stop them."

"I understood what I said," said Hermione. "I'm a grown woman now- I have enough sense to know that you're not going to hurt me." And she seemed the woman in that moment: her youthful body poised in a kind of taunt relaxation that, together with the mess of ringlets that was her hair and the expression on her pale face and dark eyes, brought to mind the primeval forests with their fey…

And then he was snapped back to reality (which consisted of a room in a mansion of a man he had hated since childhood) and she had tilted her head to the side. "I trust you."

That- that floored him. His first instinct was to scowl at her, reprimand her for the stupidity of trusting a man such as he. Severus Snape was a _spy_ for Merlin's sake. A double crosser and doubly dangerous- both sides knew he was a spy for the other. No one should trust him. He didn't even trust himself, sometimes. She couldn't trust him- she was brilliant, perfect, untouched- it was impossible.

But he remembered that she wasn't untouched. She had faced down the Dark Lord, she had felt him rooting around in her mind, she had desperately hidden her secrets from him. She knew what it was like to have to concentrate on keeping your defenses up while concentrating on making sure it did not appear like your defenses were up, all the while projecting false thoughts that you had to think at the same time you were thinking your real thoughts. She could do complicated.

Which was good. Because he was complicated. But could she trust him? That was what was bothering him- she trusted him, but he wasn't sure if she should. In that moment, he decided that she should trust him. That she was right.

So instead of scowling and hurling a scathing remark at her intellect, he stepped forward, until the space between them was small enough for him to smell the shampoo she used for her hair, the lingering stench of boy-sweat from Potter's nightmare, and the faint scent of her skin. He could see the small scattering of freckles across her nose, the coarseness of her curling hair, the small bite mark left by her own front teeth on her lip.

"Are you ready?" he murmured, voice low and silky. She inhaled sharply, and he wondered vaguely if she was afraid and untrusting of him after all.

He half expected her to shake her head, refuse, but instead she raised her chin and looked directly in his eyes. He brought a hand up to grasp her chin, holding it lightly to make sure eye contact would not be lost. The height difference between them was significant- it could be devastating for both her and him if he was swiftly wrenched from her mind.

"Yes," she breathed, and he delved into her mind.

First, those brown, brown eyes that held rings of color, flecked with green or hazel or _something_ that drew him in. It was simple from there to slide between two rings of light then darker finished wood, and into her mind.

In his mind's eye, he could see her mindscape. There were distracting snippets of thought, but he focused on the small Hermione standing nervously. "Follow me," she said shakily. "I don't want to let down my barriers. It'll take me a few hours to put them back up and-"

"Which way-" he paused. He was about to call her 'Miss Granger' again, but for some reason it seemed wrong. If you couldn't call someone by their first name, it seemed, then you had no business wandering around their mind. "Hermione."

She turned around, walking deeper through the simulated chaos she manufactured to fool the surface Legilimens. Eventually, they reached a glass wall, one that subtly reflected the memories and thoughts that Hermione had used to disguise the sheer, yet complete opaque, expanse. With a small frown, she lifted her hand and flicked two fingers apart. The wall parted, rippling like water, and she gestured him through the gap, following behind him.

Hermione led him to her safe vault, opening it with a thought as she explained it to him. "This may be important. I'm putting it in my level three protection." She opened a door in the safe, pausing with her hand on the handle. "This may be disorienting."

He finally did scowl. "Let's go." She opened the door, letting him through first.

It was disorienting, he realized when his stomach rolled in protest. He was looking through another person's eyes, holding a sweaty teenage boy in his thin arms. It was as if he was totally immersed in her, as if Severus Snape had, in some strange twist of fate or magic, become Hermione Granger. The weight of her hair was holding her head up and back, her arms were goose bumped from the cold, and with a flash of his own comforting revulsion, he realized he was _petting_ the back of Harry Potter's hair.

Hermione was next to him, sharing the memory space. "It's in a second or two," she told him, and it was so _strange_ because he was her and she was her and there was another Hermione…

He swallowed in his mind, and waited. Soon enough, Potter looked up and his (Lily's) green eyes met Hermione's.

The drop into Potter's mind was like falling in a dream. It was a rush, a sense of weightlessness and soaring and just dropping without any control. If he had been in his own body, he might have retched. Only the fact that he could still feel Hermione's chin in his hand, hear the night sounds of the old house, and smell the faint scent of her shampoo kept him grounded, and yet still ungrounded at the same time… But none of that mattered because now he was in Potter's mind.

The dream started out calmly. He was walking through a room, ignorant of what was going on beyond his line of sight, and stopping in front of a door. Severus could have gnashed his teeth in frustration- because the ignorant boy refused to pay any attention to his surroundings, to the two Legilimens the room was nothing but a foggy haze. For a moment, it seemed that the dream would end there- but with a sudden shift, he and Hermione were back in the graveyard.

Severus/Hermione/Harry was bound against a smooth gravestone, watching as Hermione was pulled into the half-circle of Death Eaters, standing tall and glaring at them all with dignity. All three minds winced in horror as Voldemort trained his wand on the witch, sending her to the ground, writhing in pain.

The dream fast-forwarded, and Hermione wheeling away from an attacker, lashing out with her knives, and then she was running to Harry, eyes wide and frightened until…

"Avada Kedavra," hissed the Dark Lord, wand almost carelessly pointed in Hermione's direction. Harry watched in horror as she fell, life going out of her beautiful, beautiful eyes until they were dull and still.

With a thrust, Severus found himself back in the room in Grimmauld Place. His hand was holding the warm angle of her chin, his feet were firmly planted on the floor, and the utter terror of the stolen dream was fleeing.

Hermione slowly brought her hand up to his wrist, bringing it down slowly to release her head. She rolled her head quickly, working out the kinks in her neck. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," he snapped, stalking over to the bed and sitting down before he fell down. "Are you?" _Was that what it was like? Did she really fight like that? She looked like a wounded lioness, all rage and fury and the desperate urge to protect what was most dear to her. And then… no bloody wonder Potter can't sleep at night if that's what roams through that hollow watermelon he calls a head. _

"No," she replied truthfully, swaying a bit. "I think I need to sit down."

He gestured sharply to the space near the foot of the bed. "Then sit down!" She grinned at him sheepishly as she did as he said.

They sat quietly, recovering. _This is really something else,_ Hermione mused. _My mind is dizzy and nauseous, but my actually body is fine._ Hermione was the first to break the silence. "What did you think?"

"The first dream, the one the nightmare interrupted, was not natural." His voice was harsh. "It seemed like the Dark Lord's manipulative mind magic to me."

Hermione looked at him, a hidden fear in her eyes that he could barely detect. "He's in Harry's mind?"

"Not exactly," Severus said, a small frown wrinkling the skin above the bridge of his impressive nose. "He's sending dreams through their link. They would need eye contact to full possess the other." _And then all hell would break loose. The Dark Lord in Harry Potter's mind… or Harry Potter in the Dark Lord's. They'd go mad. It could be a plausible idea if Potter wasn't so goddamn weak._

"Go to bed," he said abruptly, rising. "I need to inform the Headmaster. You should rest." She yawned, as if to verify his statement.

She stood slowly, but stumbled on her way to the door. He saw her falling, reaching out quickly to grab her arm and steady her. "Sorry," she mumbled. "That took more out of me than I thought it would."

"It's no problem," Severus replied smoothly, feeling a strange urge to draw her into his chest, to feel her pressed against him. He shied from it- it had been years since he had hugged or been hugged. Ugh. He hated that word- hugged. But it had been years since he had held another body to his own. He was closed off from other people- in fact, the most contact he had with another person was pretty much localized to the girl he was steadying. He remembered the night, only weeks ago, when he had carried her to her room. The warm weight of her body, the supple skin and even her pointy elbows.

He blinked, turning his thoughts to what she was saying. "I'm alright, now. Just a bit dizzy still." He looked down, realizing he still had a harsh grip on her upper arm. He let go abruptly, turning away.

"Stay here," he said, in a voice that was half an order and half a tentative request. "Your room is down a few floors and if you fall down the stairs, it will be months before I can have a proper sparring match."

She looked past the selfish Slytherin remark, and into the caring side of Severus Snape that he hid as much as possible. "Thank you," she said, yawning again, and falling into his bed. She gave him a sleepy smile, then burrowed under the covers.

He stalked out of the room. Dumbledore would want to know what his precious Savior had dreamt. He would sleep at Spinner's End. It would be better to Floo directly to the Headmaster's office, though. Even from Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange was becoming more of a pain. Her lackeys thought that by taking orders from the one the Dark Lord deemed most loyal, they too would earn his favor. Fools.

By sending her orders out of Azkaban through her sister, who no one could blame for visiting (never mind that Bellatrix was a madwoman and killer and Andromeda had married a Muggle and _still_ Bella was the one Narcissa chose to see) Bellatrix Lestrange was becoming a thorn in Severus' side. He would have to be careful.

* * *

_Dear Ms. Skeeter,_

_Hello. You don't know who I am, and it is going to stay that way. You see, you've been buzzing around too many people I care about lately. And this will put a stop to that. _

_To keep this short: I know you are an unregistered Animagus. You have been an unregistered Animagus since December 1987. I have proof. _

_In return for me keeping this knowledge from the powerful people you've managed to enrage with your lurid articles, myself included, I have three requests._

_The first- you will remain an unregistered Animagus. You've managed to keep this secret hidden from the authorities so far- this should be a small matter to keep it that way. _

_Second, you will continue your eavesdropping on powerful people. You may even continue to report what you find in your highly unethical and morally colored way- as long as I screen it first. Maybe give it a bit of an edit, hmm? Leave all the information you think might be important to either Hogwarts, the Ministry, or anyone opposing Dumbledore. Write the pure facts- none of your elaboration, Ms. Skeeter- in the accompanying diary. I have a matching one. My ear will be to the ground as well- if you try to dupe me, you will regret it. I owe you a day of reckoning and I will not be at all displeased if that comes sooner rather than later._

_Third- For my sake and yours, stop writing that drivel about Harry Potter. Think about it, you stupid woman. The Dark Lord has been defeated by this boy four times. The Dark Lord. Defeated. Four times. By a boy. Must be a pretty powerful boy, no? And how do you think the Dark Lord is reacting to everyone thinking that Harry Potter is a silly little nitwit? Image is everything, Skeeter. If Harry Potter is mad and senseless, and he can still defeat the Dark Lord, what does that say about the Dark Lord? If you aren't careful, he'll make an example out of you. And as much as I would enjoy seeing that, for the moment you are put to better use alive. _

_Follow my instructions to the letter. We wouldn't want the wrong people hearing the wrong things, would we? And if I so much hear a buzzing near me, I will give no warning before I squish the intruding little insect._

Severus looked up from the letter, raising an eyebrow at the impatient girl waiting for his critique. "I'm impressed." _Bloody hell, she can blackmail. I like it. She should have been a Slytherin. _"But you know that if Skeeter stops writing about Potter, _The Daily Prophet_ will find someone else who will."

She beamed at him, and he gave her a crooked smirk in return. Not quite a smile, but the best he could do. "All the better for us when the Dark Lord shows himself and all the journalists writing about Harry are proven wrong. Skeeter, on the other hand, will still have some credibility," she explained excitedly, taking back the letter and looking at it with a distinctly critical gaze. He imagined it was the same look she gave every piece of homework before she turned it in.

"Don't sign it," he said, waving one elegant hand in what could have been an irritated gesture. "Leave her wondering. How do you plan to give this to her?" _This will involve yours truly in some way. Unless I can weasel out of it? I doubt she'll let me, but… it's worth considering. _

"I want to leave it in an unmarked package in her flat," Hermione answered promptly. "Which is why I need you to take me on a field trip to London." When he scowled at her, she smirked at him. "Come on. It can't be that bad!"

His scowl deepened. "Not only do I have to be an accomplice to blackmail, I have to Side-Along Apparate too?" If she hadn't been around him for so long, she would have thought he was genuinely annoyed.

She grinned at him cheekily. "But you'll have the benefit of my charming company!" She patted his arm, his grimace twisting his face deeper than she would have thought was possible. "It's for the good of… well, us. Imagine what you could do with the leverage she could give you?"

Severus heaved a great sigh. "Fine, you insufferable chit of a girl. But if insist on smiling the entire time, not only will I return alone, but they will _never_ find your body." _Death threats. Death threats always work in the face of conceding to- well, in the face of conceding to anything. Except perhaps to Hermione._

"I knew you'd come around," Hermione said, laughing. "Thanks, Severus." _Well, you don't have to take it for bloody granted, girl. I'm a busy man. I have work to do!_

A glare was the only answer she received. "Shoo. I have important work to do. And you have a book to read." His gaze softened though, a moment later. "You'll be by for tea at two?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Hermione said, still smiling brightly. "I'll finish reading it tonight, then on the turnabout I'll pop in for tea. See you in…" she checked her watch. "It's ten now, so I turn back in fourteen hours, sleep for seven or so, practice something- would you stop by the Safe House around, say, nine?"

_No. I have to brew all the god-damn potions the rest of the Order are too damn stupid to make and then I need to do hide these memories from the Dark Lord and after that I need to go intimidate some of my less forthcoming informants and perhaps at least consider finding a way to influence Potter's trial. _"No problem," Severus said smoothly. "As long as the Dark Lord doesn't call."

Hermione's smile seemed stilted. "Let's hope the bloody wanker decides to take a day off." The expression of complete shock on his face was hilarious. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Harry and Ron are rubbing off on me. Anyways, I'll turn back around midnight again, then another fourteen hours, so I'll see you somewhere between twenty-three hours for me, four for you." With a cheery wave, she left his room in Grimmauld Place.

He sighed again, shaking his head. What was he going to do with the ball of energy and enthusiasm that was Hermione Granger? One minute she was lunging for his throat, the next she was mocking him and he didn't seem to mind at all. Anyone else, he would have eviscerated with his scalpel of a tongue. But she just walked all over him. He was getting soft. Too soft.

* * *

Four hours later, his door opened and closed by itself. Well, opened a bit more than the crack he had left in it mere minutes before, then slammed shut as if a giant gust of wind had pushed it. A moment later, Hermione appeared slightly to the left of where his eyes had been focusing.

"Gotcha," she said, but instead of her normal enthusiasm, her voice was weary. Tired. Careworn.

Immediately, he rose from his desk, stalking over to where she stood. "What's wrong?" _The Dark Lord came calling. Someone important is hurt. She's hurt. _She was looking down, picking at the sleeve of her shirt. Grimmauld Place was shockingly damp and chilly, even when London wasn't damp and dreary.

She didn't look him in the eye, shaking her head. "Nothing. I-"

"Do not lie to me, Hermione," Snape said, cutting her off. "What. Happened." He used his voice to his advantage- he knew the affect it had on most people.

"Nothing," she insisted, meeting his eyes. "Honestly. Just a few more bad dreams." He raised one eyebrow, a silent demand for more information. "Sometimes… I dream that I couldn't get away. That they killed Harry and I was left to-" She broke off, looking into the air at a point somewhere around his desk. "It's nothing."

He crossed the room to her, deliberately grasping her shoulders. "Hermione. Dreams are important- they are mirrors of our subconscious, reflecting and distorting what we know to be true or false. They reveal your deepest fears, your hidden secrets, the truths you try the hardest to deny. But they also feed off of the imagination, taunting and twisting fear into terror. You can be rid of the dreams."

She breathed deeply, and suddenly he realized that he could feel the sharp angles of her collarbones under his thumbs, and the tense muscles of her back and neck beneath his palms. She was wearing a simple pair of jeans and the long sleeved shirt- blue. He liked blue. But she was talking, and he needed to turn his attention to the words she was saying. "I think this one was caused by Harry's dreams, actually. It's quite disconcerting to see yourself murdered, after all."

"Quite," Severus murmured, letting go of her shoulders. "Does the Dark Lord call me?" It was wrong, he supposed, to gain this knowledge of the immediate future. But at least he could put it to good use.

"Nope," she said, smiling broadly at him, a quick change from her previous discontent. "I had a good sparring match a while ago. _You _got an arse whooping, m'dear," she called cheekily over her shoulder as she neared his little stove and kettle. "Which blend?"

She had called him 'm'dear.' He scowled. "The one in the green jar," he snapped. "Did you bring my book?" She didn't look at him, concentrating on making the tea.

But she still nodded, jerking her head toward her book bag. "It's in there," answered Hermione. "I have a few others inside too, so just rummage around a bit until you find it."

He huffed impatiently, rising with a small groan to grab her bag. "I'm getting too old to be bending down," grumbled the Potions Master. Even so, he snatched up her bag with no problems, until it came to lifting the faded and worn leather satchel. "What do you _have_ in here?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in his customary expression of shock. "Rocks, perhaps? Maybe a few children and a goat? Half your weight in sapphires?"

Her peals of laughter made him fight the urge to smirk. "You're being ridiculous, Severus. It's not that heavy."

"Yes, it is," Severus disagreed in a rolling drawl. "You're a witch. Haven't you heard of feather-light spells?" He hefted the bag onto his small bed and spilled its contents onto the worn duvet. More tumbled out of the bag then he would have deemed possible: at least five or six books, a change of clothing, a compact, a larger mirror, a small set of lock picks, another set of clothing, two cloth bags marked 'Harry' and 'Ron' and another pouch which Severus knew held dehydrated food.

In short, everything she would need to make an escape with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

He recalled rising and moving swiftly to where she stood, anger clouding his judgment, but it must have been faster than he realized. When he grabbed her arms, turning her to face him, Hermione squeaked and tried to fight, but his grasp on her arms was too tight. She was too weak in a fight of strength. Severus may have been getting older, but his arms were still unbelievably strong. When she tried to break his hold, something in her wrist popped and her hand spasmed, spilling boiling water onto her arm, chest, and stomach.

Horrified, Severus released her and stepped back, drawing his wand to help as she made a muffled keen of pain, head bowed. Some part of his mind noted that instead of tossing her head back in pain, she curled inward.

"Hermione-" he started, previous anger forgotten, but his words tangled in his mouth like abandoned needlework- unusable, a thousand different combinations but none that would make sense. "I-"

She shook her head quickly, the pain showing on her face gradually disappearing until she looked only slightly strained. "You are a bloody fuck-wanker, Severus Snape," she rasped, and he could hear the repressed pain in her voice. "Now go get your burn salve and get me on that bed."

He stood there in shock for a moment until she glared at him, a hint of her anger simmering under the surface of her usually placid eyes. "Now!"

Tripping over his feet, Severus rushed to do as she said. He bent down and picked her up clumsily, wincing when she moaned quietly in pain. Sweat was breaking out on her brow, matting the curls that lay limp on her forehead. Cursing at himself mentally, he lay her down gently on the bed, drawing his wand to cast a quick Numbing Spell.

Once the spell took hold, she sighed gratefully. "Thank you, Severus. The burn salve, please?" Immediately, he turned on the heel of his boot to get what she requested.

"Here," he snapped, tension and worry making his voice tight. "You know how to apply it, I presume?"

Hermione raised one eyebrow at him, subconsciously copying his own mannerism. "Hey. I'm the one lying in bed looking like one parent was an unlucky lobster."

She met his gaze squarely, clearly telling him to get over himself. He glared back stonily, refusing to relent until she raised one eyebrow. He relented. "Sorry," he muttered. "I-"

"No," replied Hermione, cutting him off by raising a hand. "Right now, you are going to mend my wrist, then help me apply this salve."

He noticed that she had waited until after his apology to protest. He scowled, moving closer to sit on the bed and taking the burnt wrist in his large hands as gently as he could. The skin was red and blistering, and even with the Numbing Spell Hermione's breathing quickened perceptibly. "This is going to hurt," he murmured, looking down at her.

She laughed huskily. "No, really?" she said sarcastically. "I thought you were going to massage my aching muscles from where you got me earlier."

An image flashed into his head- his hands on her lightly tanned skin, rubbing slow circles into the muscles of her thighs, or his thumbs digging into the knotted muscles around her neck and shoulders. Her bare neck and shoulders. He remembered the way she moaned lightly when rubbing her own neck-

He swallowed harshly. "Impertinent chit," he muttered, but his heart wasn't in it. "Hold still." He tapped her wrist firmly with his wand, nodded when he heard the snap and pop of it returning to its proper position. Her face tightened, but she didn't wince.

"Not too bad," she judged, eyeing her wrist. "Now I need to get that burn salve on. What would be the best way to do that?"

He held out the jar to her. "Take off your shirt and apply it to the burnt areas," he instructed. "Rub it in, or it won't work."

Hermione nodded shakily- just the thought of touching the burnt skin made her feel like she would pass out. "Alright."

"I'll wait on the other side of the room," he said tersely, drawing his wand, and swishing it gently, conjuring a partition. "There."

He was just a shadow on the other side. Hermione gritted her teeth, and went to work. She vanished her shirt, then carefully pulled back her bra with sigh of relief- the added protection of the fabric had mostly spared her breasts. Using her left hand, she scooped up a middling amount of the strange mixture- an oily cross between a gel and a paste. She started on her right hand- pressing the salve to the burn and rubbing cautiously. "Ahh-" she whimpered as the burn intensified. "Ah-"

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" the Potions Master asked, a hint of worrying tainting his usually silky smooth voice.

Hermione took in a wavering breath. "It just hurts more than I thought it would." She scooped up another handful, and spread it on her burnt flesh. "Ahh!" she keened, agony etched in her face and weaving through her voice.

"Are you proper, Miss Granger?" Severus asked stiffly, debating the possibilities.

Hermione frowned, then put her bra back on. "Relatively," she responded warily. "What-" He vanished the partition. "Oh." She felt the urge to cover herself further, her hand even going so far as to twitch toward the bedsheets.

"Oh, indeed," he sneered, grabbing the jar from her. "You can either brace yourself or I can Stun you."

She considered for a moment, before sighing and bracing herself. "Go ahead." As he started to apply the salve, she bit back a groan and leaned into his pillows, turning her head into them. They smelled like him- that smoky herbal scent that clung to his robes, a hint of old books, and the clean musk of man. She breathed deeply as he moved up her arm, concentrating on the pillow and on her breathing as his gentle, but firm hands rubbed the salve into her poor skin.

As soon as he saw her eyes close, Severus allowed his eyes to roam over her body. He had seen the outline of it before- he didn't know why her shape was affecting him so. Hips, slightly rounded stomach, faint indentations where her ribs were, and then… her breasts. Cupped in her bra, they seemed so innocent. And yet, they were doing crazy things to his head and even worse things to his-

No. He was a Master Occlumens- he should- he could- control himself. He wrenched his gaze up, to the reddened skin the covered those collarbone he had noticed so many times before. His hand slowed as he reached them- going over her shoulder as she made harsh little sounds and screwed her eyes shut. He could touch them. He was going to touch them. He wasn't going to make a fool of himself. And then his fingers were gliding over those little bones, slick with the salve. She burrowed further into the pillow, and some part of him winced in sympathy with her. He didn't like causing her pain.

And it was then Severus Snape realized he really and truly cared for Hermione Granger.

* * *

**And so ends Chapter 10.**

***Okay people. I have a bit of bad news. You know how I've been a very nice author with regular posting schedules? Every Friday, like clockwork? Well... I've decided that due to my extremely busy and chaotic schedule that will be the next two months or so, I'm going to stretch posts to every other Friday. This will give me more time to write (only half-way through Nineteen) so you can have regular updates longer, but it also gives me time to breathe. School starts on August 6 (my city is NUTS) and so I'll have IB(which translates to hours of homework, plus IA's (an investigative paper) for every class, and an EE (extreme research paper) plus CAS), AP, NHS, three volunteer organizations, an after school job, college applications, and family coming over. And I have three WIP which need to be written for. I really hope you understand- as much as I love fanfiction, RL stuff sometimes has to come first. **

**And you'll still get updates on a schedule! Just every two weeks, not every week. And I suppose that if I'm feeling particularly joyous or had a writing spurt, I'll throw in a few extra updates. :) The next one will therefore be on August 9.**

**Thank you for reading, and thank you to those who review. Comments here or on tumblr are always appreciated. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello readers! I hope the long wait wasn't too bad!**

**Thank you to all the lovely reviewers. I was completely floored by the support I got of my decision to reduce updates (you all are so understanding ily) and the comments on the chapter.**

**Without further ado...**

_**Chapter 11**_

Two hours later, the salve had finished its work and the skin that had been burned hours earlier was smooth and unscarred, if still a bit pink and tender. Hermione had appropriated one of Severus' shirts (he had protested, although not for very long) and remained on the bed as the two of them talked.

"So why did you grab me?" Hermione asked after a somewhat awkward pause in the conversation. At his expression, she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Maybe you can ignore the giant pink elephant in the room, but I can't."

He shook his head at her. "Giant pink elephant?" He had heard the term before- he wasn't totally ignorant of the Muggle world- but he would have never expected to hear it in Hermione's still slightly raspy voice. Or his, for that matter.

Hermione nodded seriously, curls falling into her face before she brushed them away impatiently. "That we are not ignoring. Why did you grab me?"

He scowled at the bag that had been kicked to the base of the bed. "When were you planning to tell me that you, Weasley, and Potter were leaving?"

As usual, she caught on fast. "The clothes and the food?" she asked quietly. "That was what this was all about?"

"Yes," he snapped, dark eyes flashing up to meet hers. "Care to explain?"

She huffed, leaning back without breaking their gaze. "Yes, actually. Contingency plan. Moody suggested it, actually. Have food and clothes ready to go just in case I need to grab Harry and go. Harry would probably insist on my grabbing Ron as well, so I packed for him too. With all the Death Eaters hanging around the house, things could go wrong quickly."

His face darkened when she mentioned Death Eaters, and she rolled her eyes again and snapped at him. "Come off it, Severus. You know I don't consider you a Death Eater."

"I am one, though," Severus replied, voice dangerously soft. "I am a Death Eater."

Hermione had kept his gaze. "And I don't know why you joined him, or why you decided to turn your back on him. But I do know that you are a good man who has done his best to turn me from a normal girl into one who can help us win this war by whatever means necessary."

"And you don't think I regret that?" Severus asked, looking away, voice hollow. "When is the last time you saw your parents, Hermione?" For some reason, it seemed normal to say her given name now. She smiled every time he did it- no matter how serious the time was.

But now she just glared at him fiercely. It was at times like these he saw the wild in her, the Hermione that was tightly bound under rules and social acceptability and the desire to be normal, with a thin veneer of placidity on top. And that Hermione came out when they were fighting, glorious and fearless. "Do you think I care? You've seen most of my mind and childhood- since when would I have appreciated seeing them?"

It was true- Hermione's relationship with her parents was more than strange considering what he would have expected years earlier. Hermione had figured it out at a young age- it didn't take a genius. Her mother had been on a fast track to a fantastic surgical residency, when she had met Matthew Granger. He had gotten her pregnant, her parents had cut off the money for medical school and demanded she marry. Helen Granger married Matt, had the child, and gone to school for dentistry. She wasn't a complete monster- she did love Hermione- but she also deeply resented her child and her husband for ending her career. Matt Granger wasn't too happy either- he didn't want a child and he hadn't wanted to marry Helen. But things had turned out the way they did, and they ended up staying together out of familiarity more than anything else.

Her parents loved her, of course- it was just they weren't there very often and they didn't show love frequently. They had figured early on that Hermione was more than capable of amusing herself and assuaged their guilt by telling themselves that she was happier with her books than with them.

Hermione grew up alone. Not neglected- alone. She had all the books she could wish for at the local library and respectable clothes and more trouble than she would have wanted from her classmates and teachers. So she was brilliant and lonely growing up, mocked by her classmates then feared when bad things happened to those who hurt her.

Her parents were half terrified of the things their daughter was capable of- one memorable occasion involved a bookshelf crashing to the floor breaking several little glass figurines displayed there. Another happened around the time Hermione was eight. They were at a friend's wedding, and an older boy was bothering Hermione. She accidentally broke the wrist that he was using to pull her hair and shove her- without touching him. Her parents had known what happened- from then on, they didn't ignore her, exactly, but merely existed around her, doing their best not to anger their daughter.

Severus was grateful she had befriended Potter and Weasley after the incident with the troll- if circumstances had been any different, Hermione Granger might have been the next Voldemort- or worse, the next Bellatrix Lestrange.

So when Hermione asked him if she would care about seeing her parents again, Severus shrugged. "I suppose not," he said, keeping his voice steady. "But as much as you dislike them, do you want to see them die?"

"No, of course not," Hermione said, startled. "They're my parents."

"Alright then," Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to relieve the tension. "We need to find a way to get them out of the country and safe. You've certainly attracted the Dark Lord's attention and he knows you're Muggleborn. The moment you are brought to his attention again, he'll send someone after your parents."

To her credit, Hermione didn't lose much color. Then again, she didn't have that much to lose after the earlier incident. "I thought about that. They wouldn't just leave though, no matter what I say. What if we erased their memories? Then we could make them believe they're different people, people who've always wanted to move- move to Australia or something."

He considered the idea for a while. "That could work," he finally admitted, albeit a tad grudgingly. "It would give you a chance to explore your Legilimency skills a bit more- you would have to erase every memory they have of you."

"And then we should set the house on fire," Hermione said, nodding once. "My grandparents are all dead and my parents were only siblings. If the house burns down, it takes care of problems with their friends." There was no audible change in her voice, but Severus could tell that she was forcibly holding back tears. But when she looked up, her eyes were clear and her face more serene than troubled.

Severus sighed, cracking his knuckles. "Then it is decided," he announced. "When we go to London to take care of Skeeter, we'll take care of your parents."

Hermione smiled tightly. "Sounds fine to me."

* * *

"I am going to kill someone," Severus hissed, rage visible in every line of his body. He had lined up targets and charmed them to repair themselves as soon as they were broken. As deadly and fast as Severus was, they weren't repairing themselves quickly enough for his anger.

Hermione was leaning against the wall of the practice room in Safe House Three, watching him with steady eyes. "What happened?" she asked, an undercurrent of worry running through her voice.

He destroyed a few more targets, then turned to face her, nostrils flaring. "What _happened_," he drawled. "What happened was a horrid little man by the code name of Telemachus managed to get himself and three other of my informants killed."

She laid a hand on his arm, half expecting him to flinch away from it. "Severus. Was anyone else compromised?"

"No," he snapped. "But-"

"Then stop worrying about it," she ordered, meeting his dark eyes with her own. "It wasn't your fault that someone was stupid. But if you let it get to you, if you let if create an anger that turns into a weakness, it really does become a problem. Be angry, if you need to be, but control yourself as well."

If anyone else had told him that, he would have scoffed or ripped them to shreds with words. But it was Hermione- and she wasn't being condescending or offering false sympathy. She was speaking with quiet authority, genuine sorrow for the loss of life, and hope for him. He exhaled slowly through his nose.

"Spar with me?" she asked. "Those targets aren't doing either of us any good. And I haven't had a good fight for a while."

Normally he would have said no- it wasn't a good idea for him to fight when he was angry. But for some reason he considered saying yes- his anger was waning and his attention was focusing on the slight woman before him.

"I'm not going to pull any punches," he warned her, ignoring her smile. "You might want to cast a few padding charms."

* * *

"It's too bloody cold to be the middle of summer," Severus grumbled as Hermione released his arm in the rather shady alley they had Apparated to. "Even for London." He was dressed all in black- not his normal white button down and black slacks. Instead of the white shirt, he had a warm turtleneck. Hermione had noticed that he hated having very much skin showing in public- usually it was just his face and hands.

Hermione shivered, taking her wand and casting discrete warming charms on herself and Severus. "Harry said he thinks it's the Dementors. They're altering the weather."

In response, Severus shook his head once sharply. "Use your eyes, girl. Do you see any Dementors here?" His tone dripped sarcasm.

She shot him an annoyed glance. "_Harry_ said. I'm not stupid, Severus. The Wizarding World would be in riot if there were Dementors around every corner in London, and they need to be in close proximity to affect temperatures. It would take more Dementors than people in London to achieve these temperatures. If I thought a human being could be insanely powerful enough to maintain it over the entire British Isles, then I would say that it's a high-powered dampening spell meeting an abnormally dreary London summer."

"Not quite," Severus drawled, smirking. "Close, though. Yes, it is a high powered dampening spell, and yes, it looked like London would have been a dreary mess without all the spells. But, contrary to what you proposed, the Dark Lord is not an 'insanely powerful' wizard. He is behind it, but others are powering it." His gaze turned serious, daring her to come up with the answer.

She turned the problem over her in head for a few moments, before her head shot up and her eyes met Severus'. Her eyes were furious, and she had gone pale with rage. "Don't tell me he can suck your magic through that awful mark."

His hands met in a sharp clapping sound as he brought them together twice, sarcastically. "Correct," said the Professor, in his usual sardonic manner. "The ritual in which the Death Eaters gain their Dark Marks links their power to the Dark Lord's. They are linked to him until death do them part…" He let his voice trail off. "I was lucky. The first Dark Mark drained too much- he refined it, but over much. Mine does not draw so much power, nor does it link his life to mine. He was dissatisfied, however, and the third vision is the one he uses now."

Hermione's gaze calmed somewhat. "So you're telling me that if he dies, you're safe?"

Severus nodded after a spilt second of hesitation. "Yes- me and most of my generation. But rest assured that if we take him down, we take most of them down as well." _That matters to her? _

The smile that spread across her lips would have made the blood of a lesser man run cold. "Good. And after we stop at Skeeter's, we go to my parents."

They exited the alley, Hermione taking three strides for Severus' one. It didn't take him long to notice, and he slowed, sighing dramatically. "Here," he snapped, offering her his arm. "I don't want to be halfway to London and realize that you're wandering somewhere else."

Hermione slipped her arm through the crook his arm made and beamed up at him. "Thank you," she chirped They continued walking, comfortably warm from the warming charm. "Have you heard anything about Umbridge? Harry saw her at his trial- said she's an ugly little toad."

Severus looked down at her, dark eyes distant. "No. The Hogwarts staff is to meet her in a week or two before the term begins. While we're in London, do you need anything from the shops?"

"As much as I'd like to stop by Flourish and Blotts," Hermione said with a sigh, "It's probably not wise. I can pick up some clothes at my house after we take care of my parents. Do you need to stop anywhere?"

There was a slight hesitation in his step, and he stopped for a moment and pulled her to the side of a large brick building. "I would like to stop at my family home," he said stiffly. "It's… unpleasant. I have been trying to find the time to do this for weeks and this would be a good opportunity."

"Of course, Severus," Hermione said, looking up at him. "Before or after my parents?"

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "After," was all he said, offering her his arm again as they continued through London. The normal tourists milled around with cameras, some very lost. Londoners moved around them with impatience, glancing at them with haughtiness that comes with living in one of the greatest cities in the world.

Rita Skeeter's flat was in a modest part of London, not far from the Leaky Cauldron and the office of _The Daily Prophet_. They stopped two buildings over, where Severus handed Hermione a vial of Polyjuice. The hair had already been added- the potion was a sort of murky blue color. Very unappealing, but she drank it anyway, downing it without a protest.

"Lovely," she rasped. The Potions Master had chosen well- the person Hermione was transforming into was about the same size and weight as her- only a bit pudgier in the general waistline area. Her long hair shortened to about shoulder length and she grew perhaps a fraction of an inch.

He nodded at her. "Random Muggle. Not important who- but Skeeter should not be able to track her."

Hermione nodded. "Right. Good. I'll see you in a bit then." With a quick wave, she was walking to the building, nodding to the doorman, and slipping right inside.

_Great,_ Severus thought. _I'm playing look out now. I feel like an unmarked Death Eater again. No. What Hermione's asking me to do is not like that. She's doing this for Potter. For Dumbledore. For us._

* * *

The front lawn of Hermione's house was neatly kept, a slender white path leading to the house. It was around tea time- it took Dr. Granger almost a minute to answer the door.

"Hermione?" he asked, surprised. "I thought you were staying at your friend's house."

Brushing back her long hair, Hermione sighed. "I was, Dad. But I need to talk to you and Mum about something. Se- Professor Snape came to help me."

Frowning, her father let her and Severus through the door, leading them to the tea room. Hermione's mother was poised perfectly in her chair, sipping from a white china tea cup. Hermione wanted to scream- sometimes the Grangers were ridiculously formal for no apparent reason. It was a weekend, so they had the day off from the practice. Instead of relaxing around the house, Dr. Granger was wearing pearls and a skirt while the other Dr. Granger could have stepped in from a 'casual' dinner party.

"Hermione?" Helen Granger frowned at her daughter and her husband, setting down her tea and standing abruptly. "I thought you wouldn't be back until Christmas!" She looked both Hermione and Snape up and down, nose wrinkling at her daughter's jeans- there was no way she could fault the jacket, she had bought it for Hermione.

"I was. I thought I could stop by, though. It's okay, isn't it?" Hermione asked, tensing. There was no answer to why just talking to her mother put her on the defensive, but it did.

With a glance toward Snape, Hermione's mother nodded once sharply. "Of course, dear," she said with manufactured warmth. "Sit down. Take some tea."

Severus had to seriously restrain himself from sneering at the woman, but he sat down between Hermione and her father with a cup of tea. After the slightly stiff formalities were over with, he put his cup down and leaned forward.

"Dr. and Dr. Granger," he said, meeting both their eyes for a brief scan. Helen was dealing with the sense of unease that came from being around her daughter, and Matthew was wondering if this visit would mean postponing the trip to France. He finally gave in and sneered at them. "I am here because there is a grave danger in the Wizarding world."

The two dentists exchanged looks. "What kind of danger?" Matt asked warily. "Hermione's never said anything about it."

Snape could feel Hermione growing red next to him. "There never really seemed to be a good time to mention it," she tried weakly. "It's complicated, Dad."

"There is a wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort and he wishes to kill all wizards and witches with Muggle parents," Severus said bluntly. "Which includes your daughter. He also wants to kill Harry Potter, your daughter's best friend. In addition to that, Miss Granger and Mr. Potter were attacked by him last year, and escaped. He wants them both very dead. Because they are currently in a very well protected place, he'll settle for killing the two of you."

Helen's mouth opened, then shut again. Matt took a deep breath, and shook his head. "We're withdrawing you from that school immediately," said the man, glaring at Snape. "There's still that boarding school we were looking at before that letter came."

"That will not work," Snape said smoothly. "You can take the Hogwarts away from the witch, but you can never take the magic away."

Hermione spoke next, voice quiet. "I refuse to leave Hogwarts. Or Harry."

"It's not your decision, young lady!" her mother snapped. "If there is a dangerous man trying to kill you, then you need to leave!" Helen's hand rose to her pearls, and she looked over at her husband. "You should call the other school now, Matt."

Hermione looked her mother right in the eye. "I'm seventeen, Mum. I used a Time Turner to take extra classes- so technically, I'm an adult in the Wizarding world. You have no say in what I do."

"Then why are you even here?" countered her mother angrily. "You can't say that you're an adult- you're barely fifteen and by our standards, magic or not, you are still our daughter and you have to listen! And what've you got to do with this?" she rounded on Snape. "You're a teacher at that bloody school!"

Snape glared at her. "I'm here to help Miss Granger with a dangerous and complicated piece of magic."

"I came here, Mum, because I needed you to understand what I'm going to do," said Hermione, voice still quiet. "If we win, I'll come back for you. I promise." She met Snape's eye, then turned back to her mother, ignoring the woman's questions. "Stupefy," she whispered, hearing Severus do the same on her other side.

Her parents fell back, unconscious.

Hermione felt the burning at the back of her eyes, the difficulty swallowing, the sensation behind her nose all telling her she was going to cry any moment. She jumped when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up, biting her lip to keep from crying.

"You told them why," Severus told her. His normally stern face had softened a fraction, which made Hermione feel even more like crying for some reason. "And you told them you would come back for them. You are protecting them. Saving their lives."

Hermione drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "But-" she said, hands flying to her face. "Severus-

He grasped her slender wrists and gently moved her hands away from her face. "I would not lie to you," he said slowly and deliberately, looking her in the eye. "If you need me to spell it out for you, I will. You are doing all that you can to protect those you love. Some might say it is ruthless, but sometimes you need to be ruthless to win a war. This is war, Hermione. And they can't handle it, but you can. The strong must protect the weak."

His velvety voice made her break down. To her complete surprise, she found herself with her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder and his neck, crying with high-pitched little sobs. She was clutching at the back of his turtleneck- it made her feel childish and that thought made her cry harder. Slowly, he brought his arms around her back and patted awkwardly.

As she inhaled in sharp short bursts, she slowly calmed down. His turtleneck smelled like him- wood smoke, parchment, and herbs, with something else underneath. It was comforting- and his arms around her made her feel something coiling in her belly, something she couldn't (wouldn't) name.

Finally, she drew away, wiping her eyes. "Sorry," she said hoarsely. "I- I'm sorry."

She couldn't read anything in his face. "Let us begin working," was all he said. "Gather what you want to keep. I'll start working on erasing their memories."

Her legs were a bit shaky when she stood, but she nodded to him stiffly and walked out of the room, winding through the halls of her childhood home to her bedroom. Its familiarity was enough to put a small smile on her face- the wooden floor and the light spilling in from the windows were sights she had seen nearly every day for almost twelve years. Her bed was neatly made, her bookshelves in order, her desk clear. The basket where her mother left the mail she received over the school year was empty save for one or two adverts and the light layer of dust on her shelves were the only signs that this room was rarely lived in.

She walked over to her book case, opening the small purse she had enchanted. Some books had stiff spines- but very few. Others were falling apart, the covers lovingly bound with tape. Some were no brainers for her bag- others she debated over for a moment or two before either adding it to the bag or leaving it on the shelf.

The small mementoes were easier- she only truly cared about a few. Her first Hogwarts letter, a picture of her, Ron, and Harry, a wooden hippogriff that Hagrid had carved her, the wooden flute she had never given back to Harry, the mirror that Penelope Clearwater had been holding, and a few pieces of jewelry that she had accumulated over the years. Clothes were also simple- the things that fit her and weren't strange colors went into the bag, and the items that were too small or rather ghastly shades of orange didn't.

Hermione left the room with a sad smile, hand resting on the door frame for a moment before she closed the door.

She stopped in her parent's room to gather her birth certificate and other official papers, her passport and a few pieces of jewelry-family heirlooms that came from both her mother's side and her fathers. Her parent's official papers- she would give them back after the war. A picture of her and her parents, and she was done packing for herself.

Next she readied two suitcases each for them, using her wand to pack swiftly and efficiently. The last thing to do was open the small safe under their bed- it contained enough cash to get them to Australia. Right before they went to the house, Hermione had transferred all their funds into several accounts before finally distributing them in one owned by Monica and Wendell Wilikins. The credit cards and passwords were already in a purse for Monica and wallet for Wendell. Everything was ready to go, and the house could be torched.

Hermione descended the stairs, suitcases floating behind her in a perfect line. Severus was bent over her father, looking into his eyes in an almost sensual way. It was intimate, what he was doing- going through every memory Matthew Granger had and changing his name, the details of his life, and erasing the fact that he had ever had a daughter.

She sat down on the sofa to wait, watching her father and the man who was helping her. All traces that she had ever cried on his shoulder had been Vanished from his now impeccable black turtleneck. His hands were on her father's temples, his eyes were focused on Matthew Granger.

For her, she had known this strange man for almost six years. Harry had hated him on sight- she had simply been curious. To the students at Hogwarts, Professor Snape was a man to be feared- at least when they were in his presence. In the privacy of their Common Rooms, or anywhere out of earshot, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike ridiculed him, insulted him, mocked him. No one thanked him for what was probably the best Potions education in Europe- Severus Snape was a Potions Master, the only one in Great Britain and one of the twenty in the world. Eight in the Americas, one in France, one in Russia, four in China, one each for Japan and Korea, three in Africa, and one in Australia. And he was _teaching._ Not giving selective apprenticeships, but teaching first years how to make burn potions.

And instead of being incredibly grateful and treating him like the genius he was, they moaned about how he wouldn't let them goof off in class- never mind that goofing off in Potions could be dangerous at the best of times and fatal at others. They took in his hooked nose (which wasn't any worse than Dumbledore's to be honest) and sallow skin, his acerbic sarcasm (yes, his social skills could do with improvements, but he was extraordinarily intelligent and most of the students at Hogwarts were egotistical idiots) and his greasy black hair (really! How would their hair look after spending day after day in the smoke and fumes of various poorly made student potions? It was really quite nice during the summer) and most of all his eyes- those eyes that looked into them and _knew_ what they had done.

Personally, his eyes mesmerized her. So many called them black- named them so as a testament to the color of his soul. But they were grey- dark, dark grey, but grey nonetheless. Perhaps it was a comment on the soul after all- darkness with hope for redemption. His redemption. They would never know what he did for them.

They didn't see him when he returned from a Death Eaters Meeting. When his mind was clouded with pain and what he had done, even Severus Snape didn't notice a Disillusioned girl hidden behind the wall as he climbed the stairs. Sometimes he turned around, eyes searching for his watcher before he continued up. Sometimes he was merely tired- other times he walked with the slow pace of a man with broken ribs or spell injuries.

At other times, though, Professor Snape always moved with a swift, predatory grace. It was a commonly noticed fact at Hogwarts that his robes billowed, even without wind. Severus was really exceptionally graceful- everything about him. His voice- silky and dangerous or rough and absolutely terrifying. His hands, when he made potions. Hermione loved watching his hands on the rare occasions that he demonstrated for the class. He could chop perfectly even pieces with one hand, stir with the other, and still lecture. Even his name was sinuous- Severus. Severus Snape.

No one saw what a glorious, glorious man he was. For some reason, he risked his life to protect them every day. Every time he went in front of the Dark Lord, he was dancing with danger. One slip in his concentration, and the Dark Lord would know all and his life would end after days- or weeks- of torture. And no one knew. No one got to see that softer side of him, the side that was snarky but kind, the side that allowed an apology to shine out of those eyes when he couldn't say anything. The side that showed when he laughed, or that shone in his eyes when the two of them debated any number of subjects. The side that offered her books and conversation and- most surprisingly, a shoulder to cry on.

The side that came with her to rearrange her parent's memories so that they would be safe.

And the side that died a little every time he came back from carrying out the will of the Dark Lord with blood on his hands.

"Hermione," she heard, and suddenly she realized that Severus had finished and was looking at her. He had noticed her staring at him.

She ducked her head quickly, the hot flash of embarrassment coming once again. She fought the urge to apologize. "Yes?"

"I'm finished," he said. "You should go through their minds to make sure I haven't missed anything. If it wouldn't-"

"I'll be fine," Hermione said shortly. Quickly, she bent over her mother, and then her father. It made her more than slightly uneasy to see how easily she disappeared from their lives. With any other set of parents, a magical working like this would have taken several hours and more than one Master Legilimens.

She swallowed hard and stood up again. "I'm- you did a good job."

He nodded curtly. "Let's wake them up and let them leave for the airport. I implanted the suggestion in their mind- they'll leave as soon as they awake." Perhaps his eyes held a question- but he didn't ask and she wouldn't volunteer an answer.

She looked around the room quickly, memories swirling. "Okay," she said, closing her eyes for a moment then opening them again. "Why don't we go to your house then come back here to burn the place down?"

Severus nodded, then stalked to the door. He held it open for her- something she wasn't quite used to. She knew he always did it for her- it was just they didn't usually go through doors. She hesitated before stepping through.

"Go on," he murmured, then put a hand on the small of her back to guide her through. "They'll wake soon, Hermione."

She could feel the imprint of his hand long after he let it drop, closing the door firmly behind him. They walked a ways down the street, Hermione taking his offered arm without a word. It felt… strange. But right- strange, but right. He was taller than her, much taller, but looping her arm through his was comfortable. That fact that he did it at all was a testament not to his 'breeding' but to the society in which he found himself now. Wizards in the highest strata of pureblood society were supposed to be gentlemen, and most were until the moment they slid a white mask over their face.

When they reached a reasonable point to Apparate, they didn't separate, but he stopped to look down at her. "If you wish you may stay here. I won't be long."

"No," Hermione replied, looking up at him. "I want to see your house. And if it's anything like your rooms at Headquarters, there's bound to be some interesting books there."

He gave her a small sneer; she didn't take it personally, that was just Severus being Severus. "As you wish," he drawled. With a sharp turn on his heel, the two of them were being sucked through a narrow tube, compressed and stretched at the same time, before being spat out on the other end.

The neighborhood they arrived in was a dank mill town- Cokeworth, according to Severus. Hermione expected him to release her now that they were away from the hustle of London. Instead, he kept her close. Hermione didn't know if he realized he was doing it, but she followed even more closely than before. The river flowed sluggishly, an unpleasant smell rising from it. A chimney rose in the distance- it was from a mill that was as old and desolate as the town itself. A line of old rusty railing separated the narrow cobbled street they were on from the refuse-strewn bank of the river.

On the other side of the river, a bit further away, was a park. On the other side of the park were much nicer homes than the ones Severus and Hermione were currently passing. Those had peeling paint or broken front doors, windows that had faded curtains and small gardens that were overgrown with weeds or brown from drought.

Hermione kept quiet, reserving judgment for another time. Her eyes took in everything- every derelict siding and sagging porch. Soon they turned down a hidden alley onto an almost identical street- although these houses were slightly nicer. Even so, in the late afternoon light, Hermione could see that some of the streetlamps were broken and the old brick houses looked deserted. The sign of the street read 'Spinner's End.'

Severus seemed fixed on a point in the distance- eventually, she focused on it as well and was therefore unsurprised when they stopped at a bleak house- one of the only on the street with unbroken windows. It was easily the best house in the neighborhood- and the scariest, if Hermione's opinion was taken into account.

Severus released her to dig in his robes for a key, withdrawing it and slipping it into the keyhole without a word. The door was stiff- it took a bit of force to open with a groaning sound from the wood. He held it open and gestured her through. "Welcome to the… ancestral… home of the Snapes," he drawled sarcastically.

The interior was dark and musty, yet devoid of dust. _Magic,_ Hermione decided. _He's placed a stasis charm over everything._ He flicked his wand behind her, and brackets of candles sputtered to life, illuminating the old fashioned sitting room.

The room was covered in bookcases, most bound with dark leather. Around the rickety wooden coffee table stood a threadbare sofa and an old, worn armchair. The natural light from the open door disappeared as Severus slammed it shut and moved into the light from the candles.

"I need to fetch some items from the second floor," he told her, eyes dark spots in his face. "You may stay here, or accompany me."

Hermione rested a hand on the back of the sofa. "May I look at the books?"

His mouth twisted into a sneer, but there was very little malice in it. "Hermione Granger- bookworm to the very, very last. The books down here are nothing of value- occasionally I receive visits from other Death Eaters. The good books are upstairs."

She grinned at him. "Then upstairs it is," she said warmly, walking over to his side. She looked around quickly, then frowned. "Where's the staircase?"

He looked down at her, expression inscrutable. Then he turned his head away and with a sharp movement of his hand, the book case in the center of the room flew out of the way to reveal a narrow staircase. "There. I will ascend first."

He was true to his word, climbing up the stairs without a sound. Hermione followed a few steps behind, a small shiver running through her at the tightness of the space. The gas lamps in the staircase allowed for some light, and Hermione concentrated at the form of her mentor before her. It wasn't long before they came to a door that opened on to the second floor.

"The Library is the second door on the left," he told her curtly. "Use common sense when deciding to open a book. Read the titles. If it doesn't have a title-"

"I'm not stupid, Severus," Hermione replied, a warning in her tone. "I know how to handle dangerous books. If it doesn't have a title that means that it has a reputation Dark enough to not need one and that makes it a bad choice for a little light reading."

He looked mildly taken aback, but he just sneered and stalked in the opposite direction. She scowled at his back and turned to march into the Library. Once inside, she sighed in relief. It was clearly the most cared for section of the house- the two study tables were sturdy and the two armchairs were plush- the small table behind them with an assortment of liquors suggested to Hermione that some amount of time was spent in this room with a tumbler full of mead or whiskey and a good book. Or good conversation- the both armchairs looked as if they were used frequently. She wondered who would come over to Severus' house-. She knew that he and Lucius Malfoy were friends and that he was Draco's godfather.

She walked over to one of the shelves, a smile coming over her face without her knowledge. This was where she was in her element- books, books, and perhaps a few more books. It wasn't long before she selected a slender tome on warding and curled up in one of the armchairs to read.

Whatever he was doing seemed to be taking longer than he expected- it was nearly two and a half hours before he returned, a hard scowl on his face. "Time to leave."

She sighed- the book was absolutely fascinating and she was close to finishing it. Apparently he noticed the regretful look she was giving the book, because his scowl softened. "You may bring it with you, if you wish," he said haltingly. "There is no copy of it at the Library, nor do I have an additional copy at the school. I found the last chapter… enlightening. It would be a shame to stop so close to the end."

She grinned up at him. "Thanks."

Instead of replying, he nodded stiffly. "Are you prepared to leave?"

"Yes," she said, standing and arching her back to stretch. "Did you get everything you needed?"

He started to answer, then paused. "No. This is my home, my father bought it shortly before I was born. When I came of age and the house moved into my possession, I put up every ward known to man and I did this to ensure that I always had a safe place to return to," he said gravely. "In case something should happen- run here. Be careful- there are some Death Eaters that know of the location of his house, including Lucius Malfoy." She had been right.

"So disguise myself and use a Concealment Charm," Hermione said, just as seriously. "And should you need me to come here?"

He held out his hand. "Arm?" She held it out, shaking back her sleeve so that the watch he had given her years ago was visible. She had taken exceptionally good care of it- it was hardly tarnished. She had been pleasantly surprised when she had discovered it was made of real silver, and so her care for it had increased.

The slim fingers that wrapped around her wrist to hold it steady were warm. Swiftly, he tapped the watch, murmuring something she couldn't quite catch for a long time. A new image slowly appeared on the third face- a spider's web. "This one is for here- Spinner's End," he told her carefully. "Just in case. In the past, Lucius has… deposited me… here after I have come face to face with the Dark Lord's… displeasure. If there is something important, then you may need to make a report for me."

"Of course," Hermione said gently, as gently as she dared. "If you ne-" she stopped herself. Severus Snape was not a man who asked for the help of others- he was a proud man. "I'm here, Severus."

He raised an eyebrow, and she looked him straight in the eye, telling him what she couldn't tell him in words. Finally, he nodded. "Let's go."

They walked out of the house in silence, and he Apparated them from the living room rather than walk down to the Apparation point again. The walk to her house was quick, but Severus measured his strides to hers.

They waited until the sun was low in the sky to set fire to the house.

Severus didn't say anything when the first tear escaped- but she could feel the shifting of his muscles where her hand rested on his arm, and it comforted her in some unfathomable way. By the time the authorities arrived, her face was dry.

* * *

**And so ends Chapter 11.**

**A bit of a sadder, denser chapter, no? Some more history concerning Hermione's parents and a premature vacation to Australia. A bit of a consideration of Hermione's own feelings for Severus. An introduction to Spinner's End, which will come in handy later. **

**In other news, HOLY COW SCHOOL HAS STARTED AND I AM DYING. And there was a mix-up with my college course which was awful and I need to redo it and it was all my fault because I was an idiot so I felt very stupid and young for... well, I still feel that way. But today my lovely cousin arrives from France with some other family and we are going on vacation! I can't wait to see her (it's been two years or so) and so I'm very happy. And stressed. But hopefully this trip will be a de-stresser, if only for a weekend. And in other news, I'm turning seventeen this week! Hurray!**

**Reviews are always welcomed and adored fully.**

**The amazing loneliesttimeline made MORE FANART for this story. (It is beautiful and Severus' face is perfect) and the link can be found in the author's page next to the first one. :)**

**And... just because you all are awesome... have a little sentence from the next chapter. **

**_"I'm glad my near death was a valuable educational experience, Hermione," Severus said wryly, some of the negative emotions dissipating. "Have you prepared something to eat?"_**

**Let me know if small excerpts are an acceptable compromise for two week breaks between updates! Next update will be on the twenty-third.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello readers dear!**

**First, I must wish my lovely cousin Gwen a happy birthday, and dedicate this chapter to her. **

**Second, I must squeal over theloneliesttimeline's SECOND fanart for this story, which was my birthday present. Needless to say, I adore it. The link can be found on my author's page. :)**

**Third, on with the story!**

_**Chapter 12**_

Severus had been called many times over the course of the summer- but never as long as this time. Hermione was out of her mind with worrying.

Lately she hadn't been using the Time-Turner as much as she had been before, mostly because she didn't want to stretch out time any longer than she had to. This had the side effect of resulting in Hermione being perptually attached to Harry's side like a burr, Twenty-four-seven. With no breaks in between like she usually had.

But now the boys were in bed and she was out pacing in the entry way. It was probably three in the morning, and the weariness was creeping along the edges of Hermione's worry, twining around her fears and giving them a distant and yet also intensified sharpness.

_I hope he isn't being tortured. What if they found out about him- what if they know he's a spy, what if he discovered- No. Stop, Hermione, stop. If you keep thinking about the what ifs you'll go crazy. Severus has been doing this for as long as you've been alive- he can take care of himself. He's an amazing fighter and he can withstand torture that would have you spilling your deepest secrets in two heartbeats. _

Her watch burned brightly, the heat searing her arm. She let out a small gasp, then looked at the watch face. The small spider's web was glowing brightly.

_Spinner's End. He's at Spinner's End. He told me before that sometimes they just drop him off there, when he's too weak to go on his own. He's probably hurt- I should- I should get his potion's bag and disguise myself quickly. _

She did just that- racing up the stairs only half-mindful of quietness to grab the bag full of medicinal potions while casting silencing spells on her feet and changing the color of her hair. She Glamoured her face, then Disillusioned herself with a brisk tap of her wand. She slipped out the door, took a deep breath, then turned on one foot and Apparated to Spinner's End.

When she arrived, she cast _Homenum Revelio_ to figure out how many people were in the area. Other than a prone figure lying on the floor in the living room, she was the only person on the property. Against all the instincts screaming at her to run to Severus' side, she cautiously entered the house, only removing the Disillusionment and kneeling on the floor when she made sure it was indeed Severus' body sprawled on the ground. His wand was on the floor next to him, and she assumed that the last thing he had done before he had passed out was call her through the watch.

He was face down, so she rolled him over to look at his front. He groaned quietly, a sound that made her heart leap to her throat. His eyes flickered open, registered her presence, then closed again with another small noise of pain. _Oh, Severus. What did they do to you?_ His face was a bloody mass; his nose was broken in at least one place and both his eyes blackened, and a cut on his lip was swelling. A spell revealed that several teeth were loose- another one fixed them while a third siphoned the blood off his face and robes. She Vanished his robes, then gingerly unbuttoned his shirt to look at his chest.

She had work to do.

Blood. More blood. That was all the early morning was to her- healing injury after injury and trying to remove the blood. She winced when she saw his back- the Dark Lord had not been pleased. Severus had a broken wrist as well, and three fingers on the other hand had been snapped.

_Why? _She wondered. _Why did they do this to you? What happened? My poor Severus, why is this asked of you? _She shoved her own feelings down. They would not help him; she needed to concentrate.

The sun was rising in the east, allowing light to filter in through musty curtains when Hermione finally sat down. She had levitated Severus into his bedroom after healing the most threatening injuries- the internal bleeding and the concussion. Then, slowly and methodically, she had cleaned him carefully with a warm washcloth, changing the water as it turned a strained pink time and time again. Now he was clean and mostly intact. The only blood left was in his hair, and when she lowered him to his bed again, she removed it with magic.

She felt like sobbing, like hitting something, like tearing into Voldemort and all his Death Eaters with a knife, with her nails, with her teeth. Her hands were red with blood, his blood, the blood of her friend and mentor and teacher. He looked so pale- Hermione had put a few spoonfuls of a Blood Replenishing Potion in his mouth and used a spell to make him swallow. Madam Pomfrey had used the same spell many times on Harry (and probably Severus too, come to think of it) and had taught it to the girl one day as she waited at Harry's side for him to wake up.

The Essence of Ditany had helped plenty, as had a half a tablespoon of Dreamless Sleep. She didn't want to give him too much, but she didn't want him waking while she worked on him either.

But now the work was done. Hermione collapsed into a chair, leaning her head back on the hard seat. She ached with the weariness that had been flooded by a rush of adrenaline. Now even standing seemed like too much more- but eventually she pushed herself up and stumbled to the bathroom. Just looking in the mirror made Hermione wince- her hair was a mess, and she had bloodstains on her clothes and on her face, from where she had been continually pushing back her hair.

_I can't do an ounce more magic tonight, if I want to set up some runic wards,_ Hermione thought with a groan. _Let's see if Severus has a shirt I could borrow. _She eventually just grabbed a dark grey tee-shirt from his dresser and slipped it on, deciding that since it fell to the middle of her thighs and she was planning to wake first later, it would do. Finally, she set a few runic wards on the house to alert her if anyone was coming. Runic wards needed plenty of power. When she was finished, Hermione felt drained, sapped of all her strength.

With that done, she curled up on the other side of Severus' large bed, and went to sleep.

She must have awakened around noon, because the sunlight was bright in the room and her stomach was making its protests known. With a groan, she sat up and stretched, the memory of the previous night returning and sinking to the bottom of her stomach with a sickening feeling.

The grey tee-shirt and the bed had smelled enough like Severus to mask the metallic odor of the blood hanging in the room, but when she sat up she noticed it again and her stomach rolled. Severus was sleeping, if not peacefully. Even in slumber his brow was furrowed, and his hands were clenched in fists.

Although she still felt awful, Hermione's nap had recharged her magical stores. She felt well enough to gather up her clothes, Disillusion herself, and Apparate back to Grimmauld Place.

She had been right- it was around noon. Sounds of the Weasleys eating (the red-haired boys could never do anything quietly when it came to food) were coming from the kitchen, so Hermione headed directly up the stairs. Someone (herself) had left a stack of clean clothes in the bathroom before they had gone down to lunch, so she Vanished her old clothes and brought the new ones back with her to Spinner's End.

There, she checked the wards again, and when she was satisfied that no one but Severus was there, she entered again. When she checked on her patient, he was still unconscious, leaving her comfortable enough to use the shower.

_I hope he doesn't think I'm taking liberties with his house,_ she though with a small frown. _If he does, I'll just have to point out he called me here and I probably saved his sorry hide. I'm allowed to borrow a shirt and use the shower._

Hermione cleaned herself quickly, washing her hair only to get all the sweat and blood out of it. The shower also had a kind of mental cleansing- she felt better as soon as she stepped under the hot water, and when she was finished washing, she felt both physically and magically refreshed.

The clothes she had brought were those she wasn't afraid to get dirty- if Severus started bleeding again, she didn't want bloodstains on anything pretty or new. Instead, a simple pair of jeans and an old tee-shirt were fine. She thought about leaving the shirt she had borrowed in the bathroom, then changed her mind. She had used it, so it was only polite to wash it before returning it. Now all that was left to do was wait for Severus to wake up.

A quick trip to the library to grab a book, and she was back in the chair by Severus' bed.

Hermione lost herself in the book, completely forgetting to make food of any kind. It was late in the afternoon when Severus began to stir, causing her to put down the heavy tome and take heed of both her surroundings and her stomach.

So she watched him- he really awakened quickly, but kept his eyes shut and breathing even until he had assessed the situation he had woken to. He was mentally taking stock of his injuries, his position, and the person in the room with him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked finally, only the slightest tremor in her voice. "I know you're awake, Severus."

He coughed when he tried to speak. Hermione promptly provided water, and helped him sit up. He gazed at her with a strange expression in his eyes- some blend of thanks, anger, and embarrassment. His face was totally impassive, but she knew. She always knew.

"I feel fine," Severus finally answered. "I don't remember much of last night."

Hermione resisted the urge to rest a hand on his forehead or sweep his hair behind his ear. "You called me, through the watch. I think you passed out right after that. I found you and healed you." _That sounds so easy, so simple. You called, I came. You were hurt, I healed you. Language like that doesn't lend knowledge to the color of blood that's been drying for hours or the sounds bones make when they come back together again._

He looked away from her, the same anger and embarrassment in his eyes. She needed to do something about that.

"You scared me badly last night," she said finally. "I can't believe that you made it here, let alone had enough strength to call me here. But I'm glad you did. I needed that." _He hates it when any weakness is revealed. How much did it cost him, last night, to ask for help? _

"I'm glad my near death was a valuable educational experience, Hermione," Severus said wryly, some of the negative emotions dissipating. "Have you prepared something to eat?"

"No," she admitted. "I forgot. Why was the Dark Lord so angry?"

Severus looked her in the eye, then turned his head away. "He wants Potter's location," he said, voice disinterested. "But the Fidelius Charm means that I cannot give the information, even if I should want to. It even removes the name from my mind. He was… upset." The dripping, sarcastic quality of his words and the memory of his body the night before made it obvious that _upset_ was an understatement.

Hermione sucked a breath in. "What would you like to eat?" she asked, after a moment. "I can go back to Headquarters to get food, if you don't have anything here."

"There should be broth of some kind in a can in the pantry," Severus informed her. "That will do."

She nodded, and hurried out of the room.

* * *

Hermione hated parties.

While Ron had no problem with people hanging around him and congratulating him, Hermione was another story. Growing up in the shadows of brothers like Charlie and Bill meant that her friend craved any chance to feel special- Hermione could understand that, and she didn't begrudge him his chance to celebrate an accomplishment. However, she was angry on Harry's behalf- Ron was nodding and grinning and acting like it was a given that he was supposed to be the Gryffindor male prefect. He was wrong. It should have been Harry, and everyone knew it.

And now she had to smile and take the congratulations and pretend as if she didn't know that Sturgis Podmore had been caught breaking into the door at the Department of Mysteries. This was bad. Very bad. Severus had filled her in earlier.

Ginny appeared at her side, putting a thin freckled arm around Hermione. "We all knew it would be you, Hermione," the redheaded girl said confidently. "I just hope it'll be me, next year."

"Who knows?" said Hermione with an uncomfortable shrug. "What time is it, Ginny?"

The girl frowned, but removed her arm to turn around and check the clock on the wall. "Nearly ten."

"I'm so tired," Hermione said, raising her soft palette to make herself yawn. "I think I'm going to go upstairs now. We'll have to leave early tomorrow morning." Of course, that wouldn't be a problem for her. A Time Turner could take care of just about every scheduling issue.

She had gotten good enough at lying by now that Ginny just eyed her sympathetically. "Alright. I'll try not to wake you when I go to bed. G'night."

"Goodnight," Hermione replied, putting a grateful smile on her face.

She wandered over to where Ron was, and put a hand on the boy's arm to draw his attention. "Goodnight, Ron," she said, smiling quickly.

"Night, Hermione," he said happily, grinning back at her. There was something in his eyes that unsettled her, something that she didn't want to place. "We'll patrol the train tomorrow, right?"

"Right," she said, brushing off the feeling. "Don't stay up too late."

Harry was sitting in a corner, staring at a picture Moody had given him. She wandered over, coming to stand in front of him. "It's the old Order," he said simply, voice breaking slightly. "Look."

She sat down next to him, patting his knee. "Your mother was so beautiful, Harry. She looks so happy." At Harry's questioning look, she shrugged. "She has that, that presence, even in a picture. You can't help but notice how happy she looks. She has the man, the friends, the purpose. From what Sirius and Remus have told us, she was popular- well liked, confident and such. You can tell just by looking at her." _She's everything I'm not. I wanted to be a woman like Lily Potter when I was younger, but I don't think I want that now._

"I never noticed," responded Harry. "I always thought she looked pretty, though." He blushed suddenly. "Are you going to bed?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, turning her head so she could look into his green eyes. Even though the guilt was pricking at her, she slipped into his mind, doing a quick scan. Jealousy and guilt leapt out at her, and she closed of the connection quickly. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."

Harry nodded, eyes sympathetic. "I get that. Most nights I see-" he stopped, then shrugged. "You know."

It wasn't her fault the air was so cold, Hermione thought as she pulled her arms around herself to halt a shiver. "Yeah. I know. Goodnight, Harry."

Instead of going up to her bed, Hermione walked up the extra flight of stairs to Severus' rooms. Of course, he hadn't stopped at the party. He was working.

So when she knocked twice on the door and walked in the room, she was unfazed by his scowl. "One day your face is going to freeze like that," she chirped. "Didn't your mother ever tell you?"

His scowl deepened. "Impertinent woman. If you are going to stay, make yourself useful. Peeves is planning to flood the kitchens with scalding soup, _again_, and the Headmaster refuses to do anything about it. Therefore, we need plenty of burn paste for the house elves." _He called me a woman._

"Isn't he scared of the Bloody Baron?" Hermione asked, a small frown settling upon her own features. "Couldn't you ask him to do something about it? That sounds inhumane!" Her views on house elves were still as strong as ever, but she didn't have the time to focus on social justice. Later. When the war was won. If she was alive when it was over. She had plans for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Like renaming it.

He just raised an eyebrow at her. "It is. But no. The Bloody Baron is still upset because last year food the kitchens provided for his Death Day Party wasn't_ fragrant_ enough. This year, the prank is fine with him."

With a look that said he wasn't saying anything more on the subject, Severus brusquely nodded toward a cutting board and some aloe leaves. "You do remember how to make a simple burn paste?" There was a question hidden under his biting tone, one that she recognized.

"Of course," Hermione said, one eyebrow raised to let him know _Yes, I got the message. No, I'm not stupid._ She lightened the look with a quick smile, reaching her hands behind her head to grasp her heavy hair and twine it into a semblance of a serviceable bun. He scowled. She rolled up her sleeves, and set to work.

Making a burn paste wasn't especially grueling- it was a fourth year potion, after all. But the proportions in the text were for humans, not house elves. She had to reduce the potency by twenty-three and a third percent and that would be the difficult part. She was very aware of Severus' eyes on her- when he wasn't paying attention to his own potion. Eventually, hers evened out to a smooth paste in a muted orange.

"Is that enough or do we need more?" she asked, washing her hands quickly before pushing the stray curls that had escaped her hair tie out of her eyes. "Severus?"

He glanced up from the root he was chopping, then made a grimace of hesitation. "From what I made before this should be enough. But-" he shook his head once sharply, causing the leather thong that held his hair back to snap. "Gods above," he snarled. With one hand occupied chopping the root and the other stirring the base of the potion, he couldn't do anything about it. "Why can't one fucking-"

"Severus!" Hermione exclaimed, planting her hands on her hips. "It's okay. Where do you keep your hair bands?"

He glared at her through a curtain of dark hair. _It really has a lovely color,_ Hermione mused. _Although I can understand why everyone calls it greasy. I'll bet it was a bit oily to begin with, hair like that, but the fumes from all those student potions probably ruined it._ "Third drawer on the right."

She rummaged through the drawer quickly, finding three and choosing one. "If you wet it before you put it in, it'll dry in place and hold better," she informed him with a small grin. "When your hair is as… unruly as mine is, you learn all these little tricks."

"Just put the damn thing back in my hair, so I can see whatever the hell I'm doing," said the surly Potions Master, still eyeing her balefully.

"You could probably do this potion in your sleep," Hermione said playfully, then conjured a stool to be able to reach Severus' head. "You're unnaturally tall," she informed him. "Tilt your head back."

He huffed, but complied. "You think flattery will get you somewhere," he said grumpily. "Wha-" His mouth shut.

Hermione ran her fingers through his hair gently, pulling out the tangles, marveling at the softness. _Hardly greasy at all. I suppose it's not as bad as it looks. Like him. _A shudder ran down his spine, and he stopped saying whatever he had been saying. Suddenly she realized that she was just standing there, running her fingers through his hair. Working swiftly, glad he couldn't see the blush on her face, she gathered it into a ponytail and tied the leather quickly. "There," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder briefly. "Perfect."

"Thank you," he said, voice gravelly. For him, anyway. Far from the usual honey over silk, this sound was a quiet rumble produced low in his chest. It awoke something in her, a responding call or, perhaps, maybe, something like, or even similar to a moan? _Oh gods his voice. No. Oh no. You naughty, awful girl, no. It was nothing like that. _

When she finally sucked in a breath, it caught in her throat. "No problem," she squeaked, hopping off the stool. "What did you need, before?" She Vanished the stool and circled the lab table to stand before him.

On his part, Severus was feeling distinctly unsettled. He couldn't remember anyone willingly putting their hands in his hair, ever. For as long as he could remember, he had been Snivellus, the greasy freak, the greasy bat of the dungeons. His hair was the feature he most reviled, after his nose.

And she had combed it with her fingers, and he could _feel_ when she lingered a moment, running them through again and again until she finally pulled it back. Her fingers, long and slender with carefully filed nails, had touched his scalp and hair gently, tenderly. He had seen her do the same for Potter- try and comb his mop into some semblance of shape, massage his head lightly to calm him after a nightmare, or ruffle his hair when she rose and he remained seated.

That remembrance made him jealous- instantly, he wanted those lovely hands back in his hair, and away from Potter's mangy head. And that made him nervous. Severus Snape was a man who hated being unsure of anything. But he couldn't help wondering if she had put her hands in his hair when he had been unconscious and helpless at her hands. When she had been healing him.

"Nothing," he said brusquely. It was better if she left- better to leave him in peace to brew and sort through his tumultuous brain. But- there was a microsecond where her expression had crumpled, where he saw that she had been expecting something and he had failed to provide it.

The realization that she wanted to stay with him made his chest hurt. "Unless-" he began, the stopped again, looking down to avoid meeting her eyes. "Company whilst I brew can be- be bearable if- if it is not distracting."

He knew he wasn't fooling her- he caught the 'Oh, Severus' ducking of the head and smile before she nodded. "Let me go get a book."

"No need," he replied. He didn't really want her leaving the room. "Choose one off the shelf, if you wish."

The grin on her face made it worth it, and tentatively, he crooked the ends of his mouth up in return.

* * *

Hermione bit back a yawn as the rocking motion of the train again lulled her into giving in to her fatigue. She and Severus had stayed up most of the night, brewing and reading and having a lovely conversation. He had even joked with her a few times- snarky, sarcastic jokes, sure, but jokes nonetheless.

The Prefect's Carriage was stifling in her robes, and even Ernie Macmillian was fighting to stay awake. On her other side, Ron wasn't even trying to pay attention, looking out the window with a faraway expression on his freckled face.

So, although a (very small) portion of her (rather prestigious) brain power was focused on listening to and committing to memory the speech of the current Head Girl and Head Boy, the other parts were free to shift between worrying about Sirius, worrying about Harry, and thinking about Severus.

Dear gods, she could not understand why Sirius felt it necessary to take so many stupid risks. She understood he was a reckless man- he had been worse before his incarceration, apparently, but even now he could act with an astounding lack of forethought. Honestly. Going with them to the station was a huge risk, and while she was scanning the crowd, alert for any sign of Death Eaters, she had seen several people give the large black dog strange glances. It set her on edge, even though Severus had told her the night before that the Dark Lord hadn't had any attack planned at the station. She wouldn't take any risks with Harry's safety.

Harry- he was trying so hard to be supportive of her and Ron while hiding his jealousy. She had been shocked too, when Severus told her that Dumbledore planned to promote Ron to prefect rather than Harry. The Gryffindor choice for the girl prefect was obvious- to choose anyone other than herself would have ludicrous. But to skip over Harry- that was strange. And while she thought she understood why Dumbledore had done it, her heart had clenched at the slightly lost look on Harry's face when she and Ron had turned away.

And then it hurt worse when she looked into his mind to see that he was thinking about how strange it was to travel on the Hogwarts Express without Ron. _Serves you right, you stupid girl, for snooping in his thoughts in the first place. You rarely like what you find when you eavesdrop. You know that he values his friendship with Ron more than his friendship was with you._

The last item occupying her mind was, unsurprisingly, Severus Snape. Her professor, her mentor, her- dare she think it- friend. The dark man with long scarred fingers, a devastatingly sarcastic wit, and those eyes that were a mix of contradictions- she had thought they showed nothing, no emotion at all, but more and more often she was able to read a flicker of amusement or disdain or anger. Those eyes that had met hers and passed through to her mind, reading all of her deepest secrets and most horrible memories without comment, without judgment. He himself was another contradiction. A half-blood Death Eater, a Slytherin with two masters, a principled and honorable spy. A genius who taught dunderheads.

She longed to know more about him, and that embarrassed her. Severus Snape was a dangerous enigma, as mesmerizing as any other thing she had ever known. Was he her teacher? The obvious answer was yes, of course. She had sat at the same table, two rows back with Harry and Ron two or three times a week since she was eleven. In addition to teaching her to brew, he taught her the mind arts, Occlumency and Legilimency, and how to fight with fists and feet and knives. He taught her spells that were grey, borderline dark, and then outright black.

The real question was, did she think of him as her teacher? Or did she think of him as something else? Something totally forbidden and wrong and yet, perhaps a little right too?

And what was so wrong about it? Severus, while not conventionally handsome, had several characteristics she found rather attractive. The aristocratic severity of his features, his hands, his way of moving with such powerful grace, and his voice. Oh dear gods, that voice. Hermione wasn't so delusional to call him anything such as what Ginny or Lavender might use- Severus Snape was not a man to be called 'hot' or 'steamy' or gods forbid 'hunky.' Even the thought made her frown- no. Just- no. Not him.

But Hermione was attracted to Severus, she realized with a bit of a wince. _Attracted to? Fancy the pants off, more like. _And she had to admit that part of what attracted her to such a degree was his intelligence. He was not your average wizard; Severus was not just a Potions professor, he had his Mastery in Potions. That required years under another Master, a thesis, and the creation of a new potion. She had looked up his Master's thesis- and had needed a technical dictionary and three read-throughs to understand it. Just by talking to him, she felt as if she was exercising some vital mental muscle.

Part of it also was the way he treated her- like she was an intelligent adult with advice and ideas that held worth. He listened when she spoke, and even when his comments sounded derisive or downright mean, there was some value to be had. He joked with her, and relaxed sometimes. More than once, he had laughed or smirked around her, although the previous night was the first time he had actually _smiled_. Severus Snape, smiling. Harry or Ron would never believe it. The time she and Severus spent debating or discussing or talking or even just brewing were becoming the high points in her days. There was something about the camaraderie they shared, Hermione's secret, that made the opportunity to be free and just as sarcastic and pessimistic as she wanted more valuable than she could have ever imagined.

Of course, he had far more than his fair share of problems. He had been abused as a child- she had seen that much with her tentative forays into Legilimency. He had a fascination with the Dark Arts, he could be cruel, and he was incapable of asking for help. She wasn't blind to those faults. He was a snarky, mean, dangerous bastard with a temper on top of it all. But that was what made the little moments better- when he was kind or gentle with her, or when he smiled at her. The fact that he trusted her enough to allow her access to his home and actually let her give him medical attention.

As she sat in the unreasonably warm Prefect's Carriage, as she reasoned her emotions out in her head, she finally admitted it to herself again. _Damn it, I fancy Severus. Snape. Professor Snape. I just really hate myself, don't I? I go for the closest guy I have absolutely no chance with. Lovely. Perfectly lovely. _

And the she made a second realization, one that almost made her groan aloud. _How on earth am I going to keep this from him? Act normal? I can't act normal. What I like about being around him is that I don't need to _act_ normal, I can be normal. I guess I'll just have to bury this keep behind my shields and try not to think about it when I'm around him. _

In a sort of daze, she followed Ron to the carriage where Harry was sitting with Ginny, Luna Lovegood, and Neville. Ginny was familiar, of course, but she was more uncertain about Neville and Luna Lovegood. Hermione had never quite gotten over the fact that she had hexed Neville to get to the Sorcerer's Stone, first year. She had been feeling guilty about that for a long time, so she always made an effort to help Neville out since then, penitence for hurting him then. He had never appeared to hold it against her, but still she felt bad.

And Luna Lovegood, daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood, owner and editor of _The Quibbler_, a magazine that was generally regarded as the ridiculous ravings of a poor widower who hadn't been a 'complete silverware set' before Selene Lovegood had died. Ravenclaw, fourth year, known for wandering around barefoot and making uncomfortably accurate comments with no mental filter. Also known as Looney Lovegood. Hermione was not a fan of those who lived in dream worlds- although she could excuse it in a nine-year-old who had just lost her mother. But in a fourteen-year-old? She made Hermione a bit uncomfortable.

Of course, it had more than a little something to do with the girl's appearance. Those eyes, that looked past things, and a voice that was incredibly dreamy, almost like a Muggle who was stoned out of their mind. But behind the strange clothing and wacky jewelry and stringy blonde hair, a sharp intelligence rested.

She made an effort to join in on the conversation, but was unable to put much energy into it. Snapping at Ron, calling Pansy Parkinson a cow, all in a day's work. But Hermione perked up a little when she got a chance to test Luna's mettle.

"Of course not. _The Quibbler's_ rubbish, everyone knows that," she snapped, as if she didn't know that Luna's father was the editor.

"Excuse me," said Luna, voice sudden frosty rather than dreamy. "My father's the editor." _So she's not such a loony-bird, then. Loyal to her father. Perhaps- Yes. I think she would be a good friend. Time to act the part of embarrassed know-it-all._

She made herself blush. "I-oh. Well… it's got some interesting… I mean, it's quite-"

"I'll have it back, thank you," Luna said coldly. She snatched the magazine back from Harry and promptly turned it upside down.

Hermione looked down and away, but the sound of three raucous voices outside the carriage brought her head up again. _Darn. That sounds like Malfoy. And where he goes, his goons go too._

The carriage door opened, and Malfoy sauntered in, Crabbe and Goyle following then flanking him. The blond aristocrat crossed his arms and smirked down at Harry, obviously there to flaunt his new prefect's badge. Malfoy had been particularly gleeful when he had realized that Ron, not Harry, was the Gryffindor prefect.

Harry responded aggressively, as Hermione had known he would. "What?" he snapped, before Malfoy could say anything.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," Malfoy drawled. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments." His aura of smugness deepened.

Harry gave a short laugh. "Yeah," he said. "But you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone." Everyone gave the perfunctory laughs, but Hermione kept her eyes on Malfoy. He had a gleam in his eye, one that she did not like at all.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be second-best to a _Weasley_, Potter?" he asked cruelly.

Hermione saw the flash of hurt on Harry face and leapt to defend him. "Shut up, Malfoy," she said sharply, a warning beyond the command in her voice. _Let's see if the Daddy's boy has anymore fight in him. He looks like he's bursting to say something._

"I seem to have touched a nerve," he said, smirk widening. "Well, just watch yourself Potter, because I'll be _dogging _your footsteps in case you step out of line."

_Dogging. Dogged. Dogs. Sirius. Damn it! How much does he know? It must have been his father, it's not safe. Wormtail must have told the Dark Lord and his followers about Sirius' Animagus form. Damn it damn it damn it all to hell. I have to tell Severus, he has to make sure Dumbledore doesn't let Sirius out of the house anymore. If anything happened to Sirius Harry would be destroyed, Sirius is the closest thing he has to a father. Even if Sirius went on the run, he would have to either dye his fur white or disguise himself well, but there are ways of seeing past all that._

She thought all this in a moment, not giving into the urge to look at Harry, or let her fear show on her face. "Get out!" she snarled, standing up and advancing at him. "I'll bet you haven't forgotten when I punched you a year ago and I will do it again, prefect or no prefect! I'm a prefect too, you bloody wanker, and I'm telling you to _get out!_" She bared her teeth at him, her eyes promising pain and retribution.

He left, glancing back at her with more than a hint of fear. "Crazy Mudblood," he hissed, then slammed the door behind him.

"Whoo!" Ron said, as soon as the footsteps faded. "Go Hermione!" The look Harry and Hermione shared went right over Ron's head. They knew- Lucius Malfoy had seen and recognized Sirius.

"What did she do a year ago?" Neville asked, voice trembling a bit.

Ron chuckled. "She punched Malfoy in the face," he said smugly, continuing with the story. Hermione couldn't pay attention- she didn't want to. Instead, she leaned her head against the window and gazed at the countryside as she contemplated what had happened.

Luna looked up from her magazine, staring at Hermione for a few seconds before returning to the publication.

They arrived at Hogwarts as usual, near dark. The castle looked imposing, framed in the growing purple of the night. But this year Hagrid wasn't there to lead the first years; instead, Professor Grubbly-Plank, his usual substitute, was ushering them onto the boats. She and Ron had to leave Harry to help with crowd control- one of the usual duties of a prefect.

She and Ron caught up with Harry at the carriages- the ones that had been drawn by invisible horses the year before. But now-

"Thestrals," she whispered, numb fingers dropping her trunk with a thump. "I- I can see them." _This isn't right. What fifth year should be able to see a thestral? _

Ron frowned at her, leaning down to pick up her trunk. "What?"

Luna's head poked out of the carriage, her protuberant grey eyes fixed on Hermione. "You can see them. I can see them too."

A lump had emerged in Hermione's throat, and she couldn't say a word until she was in the carriage, squeezed between Harry and Ron.

"How can you see them?" Hermione asked, the numbness slow to flee. "I mean- I'm sorry. That's wasn't terribly sensitive." She sent an apologetic look at Luna.

The blonde girl shrugged- this apparently forgave Hermione for her comment about the Quibbler. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. My mother died when I was seven. She was experimenting with a spell and it went badly. I was with her in the lab. You?" There was a kind of painful sympathy in her voice, one that made the part of Hermione that wanted to cry when she saw someone hurt ache.

The rest of the carriage was watching with interest, but all of them had confusion etched into their faces. Their young faces. "I- Last year. In the graveyard. We were fighting, and one of the Death Eaters died." _And those Death Eaters that Severus poisoned- the ones we fought. The red-haired woman I killed. Alcott, I think her name was. _

Harry's eyes were darting between her and Luna. "I didn't know that one of them died," he said in a hushed voice. "What happened, Hermione?"

She didn't want to answer him. "It was a fight, Harry," she mumbled. "This is war. People die in war." _People die when I slash a major artery with a knife, or hit them in the chest with a Bone-Breaker. Or when I Stun them and Severus has to poison them. _

"What is this about anyway?" Neville asked. His face was scrunched up, but with a dispassionate jolt Hermione realized that some of the baby fat had melted off his face during the summer vacation. They were becoming adults- young men and women. Of course, she was almost three years older than all of them.

Hermione snapped into know-it-all mode. "Thestrals are magical creatures that can only be seen if the observer has also seen death. They're thought to be omens of death or bad fortune because to see them you need to have seen someone die. Thestrals have the appearance of skeletal black winged horses- they look dead themselves. They do eat meat- raw only, but they also like blood. They have good noses and excellent directional skills."

Everyone gaped at her, and she allowed a flush to steal over her cheeks. "I read," she snapped. "The reason that Luna and I can see them and you lot can't is because we've watched someone die."

Neville cleared his throat timidly. "Oh," he said. "The horses pulling the carriage? I can see them too. I never knew what they were."

"Who'd you see kick the bucket, Neville?" Ron asked, with all of his usual tact.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Sorry, Neville."

The sandy-haired boy shook his head. "It's okay. It was my great-aunt. My grandmother's sister. She was old. It- it wasn't bad, or anything. It just looked like she was sleeping."

"So why can't I see them?" Harry asked suddenly. "I mean, I saw my mother die."

_Oh, Harry. _"You might not have actually seen it," Hermione said gently. "Or it could be you weren't able to process it. To see a Thestral you've had to face death- to have seen and accepted it for what it is."

For the rest of the carriage ride to the castle, they were silent.

* * *

**And so ends Chapter 12.**

**I hope you enjoyed it. The Trio are back at Hogwarts, and there's been a minor shift in the relationship between Hermione and Severus. Kuddos to you if you can get the reference I made. :)**

**My life has been one stressful event after another recently- if you follow me on tumblr, you've noticed the lack of posts. Yeah. I can't believe I have time to think let alone breathe and my new laptop was supposed to arrive last week and STILL HASN'T COME (if you work at HP get me a rush order) and so I haven't been able to write. At all. Which is driving me nuts because I came up with a _beautiful_ conflict for Severus and Hermione and _I need to get it on paper! _**

**So, no progress with writing, but plenty with planning. **

**I hope you will review and leave with some feedback. I have a fond spot for this chapter. **

**Please go and see the fanart! It is wonderful!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello, readers dear!**

**The last chapter wasn't as well received as the others. Something in particular you guys didn't like? Or was it just the long wait? Thank you to those who did review, though. They were lovely, and I really appreciate the insights and encouragements. :)**

**This chapter is probably the longest in the entire story... which is a bit of a reward for all of you. Really, it's more than 8,000 words. **

**I GOT MY LAPTOP. So more writing= more getting ahead on chapters= maybe an extra chapter now and then. Yay or yay?**

**So with no further blathering by the author, let us continue with the adventures of Hermione and Severus. I will warn you, though, Dumbledore is a dick and the romance gets put on a little backburner for some planning. :)**

_**Chapter 13**_

"Ah, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said warmly. "Please come in." His performance was so perfect it could have been genuine- the twinkle in his blue eyes, the grandfatherly smile on his face, the air of genial happiness.

Hermione nodded at the Headmaster. "You wanted to see me, sir?" The years had taught her to be cautious with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Dumbledore nodded, and gestured to the seat in front of him. "Sit, sit, my dear girl. I have some things I want to discuss with you for the coming year."

Hermione did as she was bid, and sat, smoothing her skirt neatly. "Concerning Harry?"

"Yes, my dear," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "I am afraid this year will be the most difficult for the poor boy." He looked sorrowful at the thought. "Tell me about his summer."

It still made Hermione uncomfortable to talk about Harry to the Headmaster or Severus. It felt like she was betraying his privacy and his trust and it felt wrong. "The incident in the graveyard has had a serious impact on his morale," Hermione said quietly, self-loathing coming over her. She shoved it behind her Occlumency shields. "He's having bad dreams. He- he is filled with anger. At Ron and I, at you, and the world. Not letting us write to him certainly had a detrimental effect." Hermione looked up at the Headmaster, a touch of reproach in her voice. "He was very upset that you haven't talked with him."

"There is much he does not know," said Dumbledore gravely. "I cannot have too much contact with the boy this year. You will have to be an influence on him, Miss Granger." He sighed and shook his head. "It is a pity that he and Severus became enemies so quickly. He needs a mentor. He needs to foster love."

Hermione smiled. "Then we might have some hope. Harry finally noticed he fancies girls. I think she may fancy him back."

The Headmaster straightened, with what may have been joy on his face. "He has finally recognized his feelings for young Ginerva Weasley?"

_What? No. _"No," Hermione said, frowning now. "No- Cho Chang. Ravenclaw, sixth year-"

"Yes, yes, I know who Miss Chang is," the Headmaster said, frowning. "Miss Granger, another of your duties will be to ensure that Mr. Potter and Miss Chang _do not_ interact alone."

Hermione stood indignantly. "_Headmaster_! Harry can fancy whomever-"

Dumbledore stood as well, and said in a quiet, deadly voice, "Miss Granger, do not question me."

_He's going to manipulate every single aspect of poor Harry's life. This isn't fair!_ "What harm will a small dalliance do?" Hermione asked desperately. "Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry's only fifteen!"

Dumbledore struck his desk. "I said _do not question me_, Miss Granger. The Chang girl is not right for Harry. They will not-"

"Who cares?" Hermione yelled, voice rising in both pitch in volume. "It would make him _happy_."

Now Dumbledore's eyes were slivers of cold ice. "Miss Cho Chang is not suitable for Harry Potter."

It was beginning to dawn on Hermione with stunning clarity. "But red-headed and milky skinned pureblood Ginny Weasley is?" she asked bitterly.

"Yes," Dumbledore said finally. He sighed, and once again he looked like an old, charitable grandfather. "Miss Granger, look at it from my perspective. Miss Chang is notable only for her dubious skill in Quidditch. Her family is not from Great Britain , they have no ties here. They are half-blood, and Chinese. This means that when they accept that Voldemort is back, they will probably choose to flee the country. Miss Chang, being an obedient daughter, would follow. Harry Potter's heart would break. I'm trying to spare him the pain." He shrugged. "Miss Weasley, on the other hand, is both intelligent and courageous. Her family is dedicated to the fight against Voldemort, and because they are merely blood traitors, Death Eaters will be under orders to capture not kill. Miss Weasley is younger than Harry, and according to both your reports and Molly Weasley's she is quite in love with the boy."

Hermione felt like bursting into tears. "Then did you have excellent reasons for why Viktor and I were never meant to be?" It still ached sometimes, knowing she had given up the one chance she had ever had at a romantic relationship.

"Of course I did, my dear," Dumbledore said gently. "Are you not happy, now?" He shook his head sorrowfully. "I did try to tell Severus, when we chose you, that it would not be a life for a young girl. But I had hoped-"

"Girl or not, my life is my life and I shall live it," Hermione interrupted, cold anger in her voice. _I can't let him find out about my feelings for Severus._ "Do you have any other instructions for me?"

Dumbledore sat back down. "Harry is angry. Try to calm his anger. Perhaps you should begin to teach him some calming Occlumency exercises." He nodded at her. "You may go, Miss Granger."

* * *

Severus was expecting Hermione. Umbridge's speech was utterly ridiculous, and she would want to discuss it with him as soon as the boys were in bed.

He glanced at the clock again as it neared ten. It wasn't curfew yet, so he had some time before she would come. Time to sort things out in his head.

When he had been laying on the floor at Spinner's End, deposited there by Lucius, he had called her. He made a mental note to thank his old friend later; the head of the Malfoy family had been facing the Dark Lord's displeasure by aiding Severus. Should the Dark Lord discover that Lucius had taken his battered body to his house, Lucius would have been subjected to a manner of torturous curses.

He had been bleeding, inside and out, on the rug, listening to his heart beat shallowly as a way of distracting himself from the pain. He knew from experience he would pass out from the pain in a few minutes- he was trying to figure out how to get from the parlor to the bookcase shelves and up to his bedroom before that happened. It was only when he had shifted to try and levitate himself, when he felt the round hardness of his pocket watch in his breast pocket.

_Hermione,_ he thought. He barely had enough strength to Summon the watch and his wand to his hand, and tap the spider's web, channeling his pain and fear of death into the call.

And then he passed out.

He didn't remember her discovering him, but he had drifted in and out of consciousness as she cleaned his wounds, and once when she was floating him up the stairs. Slowly, the pain lessened until it was bearable. And then she spooned something into his mouth and he was out again.

His first reaction upon waking was embarrassment. This girl- no, this young woman- had seen him nearly naked and in a position of utter helplessness. He had not been as close to death as he had originally thought, but he had been close enough. Severus Snape was a private man- he had only barely become accustomed to her seeing him in only his slacks and buttons downs and this felt like an invasion of privacy.

Or it would have felt like an invasion of privacy with just about any other person.

Somehow, with Hermione it was okay. Truthfully, he had been more unsettled by the fact he wasn't completely panicking. Hermione was safe, she was a known quantity. But more to the point, he trusted her.

And Severus Snape did not trust many people. Let alone teenaged girls.

But she didn't act like a teenager- she acted like a serious woman. A woman who knew the right and wrong in her world, and was well aware of the grey too. A woman who would fight for those she loved and against those who threatened her or her allies. A woman who was slowly worming her way under his well-built and not entirely false façade.

He couldn't remember the last time she had truly annoyed him, or made him want to wince at her immaturity. He could, however, remember the last time she made him laugh, mainly because it was happening more and more frequently. He could remember times that she frankly astounded him with her intuitive genius, or genuine caring, or glorious ruthlessness. It was a struggle to recall a time where he was feeling angry or derisive toward her.

The fellow genius in him reveled in her mind, enjoying their banter and discussions. The boy that had edited his textbook for fun was positively entranced by her.

And the boy that had been carelessly shoved aside time and time again was equally as entranced by her heart. When she protested unfair treatment or mourned another dead body, one part of him wanted to snap at her for Gryffindor sentimentality and the other wondered about how much love she was capable of. If she could extend her worries toward the treatment of house elves and her tears toward someone she didn't know, could she possibly care about him? Could she worry about him? Would she cry over his body?

He suspected the answer was yes, and that made a little flicker of joy appear under his ribcage.

Hermione was a type of contradiction as well- she had the largest heart he had ever seen, but she could become a whirlwind of dangerous, lethal beauty in an instant. Gods, she was a vision with a knife in one hand and her wand in the other. She had been developing her body since early pubescence, and the ease in which she could extend her limbs and power she could use showed it. She had no qualms about using her formidable repertoire of spells (some of his own invention) and her equally formidable athletics training to defend herself or others.

Severus was well aware of the darkness inside of himself- the secret soul buried (not so buried) that loved the Dark Arts, the essence that rose up and took over when he whispered deadly incantations and evoked beings no man had any business evoking. He had arrived at Hogwarts knowing more about the Dark Arts than most, if not all, of the fools taking their O.W.L.'s.

His grandparents had died when he was seven, leaving his mother with a Dark Arts library not much smaller than the Black's. His weary, hollow mother had stashed them all in the attic, in easy reach of a young boy who wanted to know as much as he could about the world of magic. Those books had called to his soul, sinking the sharp hooks early and fast, hooks that remained there even now.

He honestly loved the Dark Arts; he loved the way the magic rushed through him with hardly any prompting, he loved the intelligence in the quiet seduction of the darkest magicks, he loved the power that the hushed and secret incantations gave him. The Darkness that had been growing inside of him since childhood reveled in the beauty of the Dark Arts: they were unfixed, mutating, indestructible. In his mind, he had often visualized it like one the monsters that Hercules had faced.

As soon as one head was removed, two more sprouted. The Dark Arts were easy to manipulate, giving the welder a false sense of power. They were also quick to turn on the caster, if they weren't faster. Dark Magic could only be borrowed and channeled, never completely dominated.

His appreciation for the Dark Arts had faded and then flagged when he finally felt the horrors they could wreck on humanity- but he had never truly lost it. The temptation was always there, hovering in the background. It was stronger when he was angry or scared- so he fought hard to control those emotions.

And then came Hermione, who completely appealed to the Darkness within him. She was perfectly innocent and pliable one minute, and in a complete fury the next- but only if she had a reason. She could be deadly and beautiful at the same time, a complex mix of that which was mortal and that which was fey and completely foreign. Always thinking, always one step ahead, always looking for a way to win an advantage. There was something in there he could admire completely.

She was a person could both shed tears at the untimely death of a hippogriff, and kill a man without blinking. Until later, that was. That was where her true feelings came to the forefront- when Hermione would weep and blame herself and feel endless remorse. And then she would piece herself together and continue. He was constantly in awe of the way she could be both emotional and heartless, ruthless and then remorseful.

She couldn't be more perfect.

And that scared the hell out of him.

He had realized this in the past, of course, and had managed to brush it away by telling himself it was simply a teacher's pride in his student, the closeness between mentor and protégé. But lately, her own voice in his head had been reprimanding him.

"_I'll be turning seventeen in a month or so."_

"_Krum is seventeen, and I am seventeen."_

"_I'm a grown woman now- I have enough sense to know that you're not going to hurt me."_

She was always reminding him that she was an adult- she pointedly called him his given name and insisted that he do the same. As much as he had opposed it at first, he liked it now. Hermione. Different, like her. Special, also like her.

Special to him.

He didn't particularly mind that she had helped him- the man who normally refused all aid. He didn't mind her fingers running through his hair- the man who normally avoided all touch. Actually, he didn't mind her at all- at times he craved her presence. Like when he wanted to rant. Or when he made a rather brilliant deduction and felt like sharing it with someone who would actually understand how brilliant it was. Or when he was in a murderous rage and knew theoretically he needed to calm down.

If he wanted to face it or not, he knew that she _knew_ him. He could send her a look and she could read it- hell, she could identify the tiniest flicker of emotion in his face and react accordingly. So many people called him emotionless, said that he was unreadable- but she could read him like a book.

_So what if I admire her,_ Severus thought scathingly. _So what. Nothing could come of it. _

Sometimes, when he was alone and lonely, he would suddenly remember the feel of her collarbones under his fingers, or the silky warmth of her skin under his hand, or the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist when her robes or shirt stretched tight. Or the time he burned her and she was only in her bra-

_Stop it, you disgusting old man_, he thought, horror tingeing his thoughts. _She's a child she's-_

_She's eighteen. Legal in both the Magical world and the Muggle one. She's an adult, now. She can make the choices of an adult, she acts like an adult, and she can feel like an adult. _

And therein lay his problem. Severus Snape was an honorable man- if she was underage, she was underage and he could firmly halt any thoughts that might be 'wrong.' But as soon as it wasn't wrong, as soon as he no longer had an airtight excuse, his mind felt free to roam.

_She's your student,_ another part of his mind reminded him. _She's been entrusted to your care. You are supposed to educate her, not try to-_

_To what?_

_Try to get into her knickers. _

_What about her heart?_

_That too. _

_Why not?_

_Because._

_Because why?_

_For heaven's sake, you sound like a toddler. _

_I'm being serious. Why not? I've taught her just about all I can. She doesn't need my tutoring anymore. _

_She's still a student at Hogwarts._

_Fuck Hogwarts._

_That's what I'm telling you _not_to do. Don't you understand me?_

_I am you. _

_You're arguing with yourself- you are certifiably nuts. She wouldn't even want you._

_So what's the harm in dreaming?_

_Hope hurts. You know that as well as I do._

_Because I'm you. I know. _

_You're being ridiculous. _

_What if she did want me?_

His mind stilled, then exploded.

There was no way a girl like Hermione would ever want him. He was old, he was damaged goods, he was probably more than half-crazy by now. He was a bitter old man with no future. He would probably die before the war was over.

And more to the point, if he believed she was vain enough to care about such things, he was nothing to look at. His nose, his hair, his teeth. Hell, his temper, even. He had an awful temper.

_She's never cared about your temper before. She laughs when you're mad. _

There was no way she would want him. She would probably end up with Potter or Weasley when all was said and done.

_She's too much like you, now. What makes you think that one of those idiots will be able to see passed what she can do and love her like she deserves? _

They would never be able to accept Hermione for who she was. No one would- she was special, unique, and no one else would be able to realize it like he could. He was the one who had shaped her entire transformation, who had been there every step of the way, guiding and transforming her-

_Who says that you could do any better? You are incapable of love. You killed the last woman you thought you loved. _

That was his fate, he had accepted it long ago. He had sworn never to love again, he had wept his last bitter tears when Lily died. Of course, then he hadn't known he hadn't really love Lily. He had been infatuated with her- there was a difference. But Hermione-

A knock at the door. He cleared his throat and rasped, "Enter."

She slipped in, an angry light her in her eyes. "Dumbledore wanted to see me." If he wasn't mistaken, he saw burning anger in her face as she spoke. But as soon as it appeared it was gone, and she was controlled again. O rather, her anger had shifted. "But that's not important- the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts," she growled. "What are we going to do about it?"

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "What can we do about it?" he asked, shrugging. "Suggestions?" He gestured to the chair in front of him and she took it.

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously. "She's out to prove that Harry's a nutter and Dumbledore is senile. The Minster is paranoid about Dumbledore's influence on this generation- he's going to want her to undermine him and potentially hurt our understanding of the Dark Arts. Fudge is scared that Dumbledore is going to attack him using Hogwarts students- he wants our Defense lessons to be either meaningless, or completely wrong."

"Well said," he told her. "The only thing I'd have to add is that she wants to sow distention between the students and Harry, the students and Dumbledore, and Dumbledore and the other Professors. And she'll want to do something about Hagrid."

"That bitch," Hermione gasped. "I should have remembered. She's very anti-half-breeds which includes werewolves and centaurs and half-giants like Hagrid."

Severus nodded. "Which was one reason Dumbledore wasn't too eager for Hagrid to return before the start of the term."

She nodded absentmindedly, tugging at a curl. He looked at her- he could feel she had something to say. "What is it?" he asked.

"Harry," she answered after a moment's hesitation. "He is roaring for a fight, he's mad and he's careless when he's angry. He lets his temper get the best of him, and Umbridge is going to try and use that."

Severus regarded her with hooded eyes. "Then caution him and try and diffuse his anger," he advised. "But I'm honestly more worried about you."

There was something in the brown eyes that turned on him, and he ached to delve inside her mind with Legilimency. "Pardon?"

"She's high up in the Ministry," Severus explained. "She'll have heard Potter's story. She'll also know that you were there as well. She'll try and pull you into it. Dumbledore exercised most of his diminished influence to keep your name out of the papers- up until now, you've merely been an unnamed student. Few of the students here know for sure you were there. There was confusion, and then Fawkes arrived and almost no one saw you. No one was paying attention to who was or was not in classes, and it could have very easily been assumed that you were with Harry in Hospital Wing instead of the other way around. It's not a state secret, but it isn't widely known either."

It was dawning on Hermione. "So she's going to tell everyone it was me with him," she figured, and Severus could almost feel the sinking feeling he knew she was experiencing by the look on his face. "She's going to call me out in a public place and ask me why I was there and how I knew. And then she's going to use anything I say against us."

"Exactly. What do you want to do about this?" He had a few ideas, but he wanted to hear hers first.

She took a while to mull through her options- she was thinking hard and fast and he could see it in her face. "I think we need to tell the story first," she said after a while. "We can use Rita. And if _The Daily Prophet_ refuses to publish it, I now have a contact with _The Quibbler_."

Severus stared at her incredulously. "How on earth did you manage that?" he asked, shaking his head quickly and allowing a few strands of hair to fall into his face. "Since this morning?"

"Luna Lovegood," she replied with a smug little smirk. "Bonded with her on the carriage ride. I'm sure if I asked her to do it she would give the article to her father."

"It's something to consider," Severus conceded. "But we also need to consider the reputation of the paper used to publish. And the dangers of coming out with something big like that. What else?"

She took a few more moments to think. "I could either suck up to her, or intimidate her. Offer to get her insider information on Harry in order to undermine him, or threaten her so she'll comply."

Severus shook his head again. "She's not going to fall for it, if you try to suck up or offer to spy," he said. "Oh, wipe that affronted look off your face. I have complete faith in your acting skills. It's just that Umbridge is canny and she'd rather oust you than use you. I'm not sure how effective threatening her would be."

"Do we even want to repress that information?" Hermione asked, a thoughtful look on her weary face. "I mean, the Ministry's mudslinging has pretty much had its desired effect. Harry and Dumbledore are persona non grata everywhere and completely discredited. What's a little more? It'll put me on the radar, and I'm already known to the Death Eaters because of my stunts in the graveyard. We could use the revelation to our advantage."

Interesting. He hadn't thought about using it. "Elaborate," he ordered.

Hermione grinned at him, and did just that. "I have a certain reputation among the students," she stated, shrugging at the eyebrow he raised. "Shove off, Severus, you know it's true. Like you said, I'm the resident know-it-all. I'm a swot who always tells the truth and sticks to the rules. I have a bit more believability than Dumbledore- everyone thought he was crazy before this. And Harry has always been a bit of an outcast at the school- remember how everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin three years ago?"

"So you're saying that they'll believe you? Over a respected and revered wizard and a boy hero?" Severus said, affected disdain dripping in his tone.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "No," she said smartly. "I'd only make them think about it a bit. And make them think that Harry and Dumbledore are both more respectable than I am. And I'm pretty damn respectable." She winked, then giggled. "Sorry. But it's not like I'm a two pound tart. I'm top of my class here at Hogwarts."

"And if you listen to the werewolf talk, you're the 'brightest witch of your age,'" drawled Severus. "Two pound tart? Honestly, Hermione. You sound like our lovely Nymphadora sometimes."

She shook her head. "I do try. What do you think I should do?" She looked up at him, waiting for an answer. Then, just as he was about to say something, she lit up. "What if we made it into an underground movement type thing? The woman's awful, it won't be long until everyone hates her. We make Harry and me into martyrs, almost. Then when Voldemort finally reveals himself, we look even better. But for now, be silent and strong in the face of adversity, until everyone hates her enough. Then when she does something appropriately awful, Harry and I tell our story. They will rally around him- this gives Harry the chance to practice some leadership skills. I'm sure I could get him to teach us a proper Defense class- instead of the drivel she's going to be teaching. I mean, did you see the textbook? It's awful!"

Severus sat back- if he was a normal man he'd be gaping at her. "I think it's brilliant," he said after a moment. She flushed from the warm praise- he didn't praise often. "Hermione, it's brilliant. If they can rally around Potter, that gives him a solid base of allies. If the students learn some defensive spells at the same time, that's almost like a bonus."

She positively beamed at him. "The only hard part will be convincing Harry. But I should be able to do that without much of a problem. Much." Her smile dimmed. "We'll see."

"We shall indeed," Severus said with a sigh. "You should get to bed, Hermione. It's late." Then, surprising even himself, he rose to open the door for her. "Goodnight."

Hermione looked up at him, whiskey eyes wide. "Goodnight," she said, voice almost a whisper. "I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, she was gone.

* * *

As soon as she woke up in the morning, Hermione could tell the day would not end well. First off, Harry was in an awful mood- shifting quickly from sullen to furious and back to a sulky rage. And then there was the Twins' notice on the board- advertising for human guinea pigs once again.

She had noticed Harry's mood as soon as she walked in the room- she strode over to wear he and Ron were standing moodily. "Good morning," she said warily. "What's the matter?"

When Harry didn't answer, Ron spoke up. "Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who."

"Yes, Lavender thinks so too," she said under her breath. _Lavender, Seamus, and maybe even Dean since the two of them are close. This isn't good. _

Harry glared at her sullenly. "Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention seeking prat, have you?" he asked loudly.

She met his eye calmly. "No. I reminded her that it was better for people to suspect she was an idiot than for her to open her mouth and confirm it. Then I told her if she couldn't help from talking about it, to talk about me instead since I was there too. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down Ron's and my throats, Harry, because if you haven't noticed, we're on your side."

Both of the boys gaped at her- then looked at Lavender who noticed, flushed, and looked away. "Sorry, Mione," Harry said in a low voice.

"That's quite all right," she said, putting a hand on Harry's arm. Ron gave her a look, but she ignored him. "Do you remember what Dumbledore said last year? About the Dark Lord? 'His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust-"

"How do you remember that?" Ron asked incredulously. "Word for bloody word?"

She gave him a scathing glance. "I listen, Ron," she said impatiently. "What I was saying is that we need to stand together, to be united. The Dark Lord is hiding in the shadows to divide us- those who know and those who don't believe. He wants to divide us because he fears us. We need to stand together and stand united."

Ron opened his mouth, and she held up a warning hand. "I'm not talking about inter-House unity, yet. For now I'm talking about intra-House unity. If even the Gryffindors can't stand together, then we really are doomed."

Breakfast was an exercise in control- they received their schedules and Hermione wanted to moan and bang her head on a few things. History, Potions, Ancient Runes, Divination, and then Defense. Umbridge, first day back. And then Ancient Runes and Divination were at the same time, so she would have to choose which she wanted to take this first time through.

She had finally decided on Ancient Runes when the Fred and George came in. She had a healthy respect for the Twins- they had come up with several useful inventions. However, they had also invented several things that annoyed her greatly.

It was only later, when she and Harry and Ron were walking in the halls, that Harry's mood seemed to lift a bit. "D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked, green eyes flicking between Ron and Hermione.

Ron quickly admitted that he wanted to be an Auror, but Hermione stayed silent.

"C'mon, Mione. You've had to have thought about it. I mean, you try so hard in everything. Why bother if you don't have a plan?" Ron said, nudging her in the side. "Out with it!"

Her throat seemed to swell. How was she supposed to tell two innocent boys that she didn't expect to make it out of the war alive? "I-" she couldn't finish, and looked away. "I've never thought that far ahead." It was a lie. She had, years ago. Years and years ago.

Harry seemed like he might have cottoned on, but Ron blathered on, oblivious. "Hermione! You're always thinking ten years ahead. It can't be that embarrassing." He rolled his eyes at her.

"What's your life plan, Hermione?" Harry asked again, slowing his pace to hers. "Hermione? What do you plan to do in the next few years?"

She cleared her throat. "Get my O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s, hopefully. Help in whatever way I can against the Dark Lord. Make it out alive." She shrugged, refusing to look at either of them. "After Voldemort is taken care of, I can think about it."

Ron stayed silent and Harry tried to break the awkward moment. He gave her a sympathetic look, green eyes full of expression. "The first time I faced him, I didn't know how I was supposed to do anything but plan for the next time," Harry told her truthfully. "But it helps, to think ahead. Isn't there some job you'd want? Like a doctor?"

"Why would she want to be a muggle doctor?" Ron asked, relieved. "Don't they try and sew people? With thread?"

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "It's called suturing, Ron," she said, smirking. "I thought about that, when I was younger. But I'd rather have a Ph.D. than a MD. I think the equivalent in the Magical world is a Mastery."

"What's that?" Harry asked, confused.

Ron answered. "It's a title showing that you have mastered a magical art. You can get them in anything, really. Transfiguration Masteries are the most common in Britain. McGonagall has one. There are a few people with Charms Masteries, and others with stuff like Ancient Runes or Arithmancy."

"Professor Snape has a Potions Mastery," Hermione said quietly. "He's the only one in Great Britain."

Ron nodded. "You have to be really smart to get one. And it takes years. You have to be apprenticed to a Master for a few years and then when they feel you're ready, you face three tests. One is written, one is oral in front of a council of Masters, and the last one is a demonstration of your abilities."

"Sounds like something you'd enjoy, Hermione," Harry said with a grin. "Okay. Which subject? Transfiguration? Charms? Potions?"

Something tightened in her chest, at these two boys who cared so much about her. "I'll see which one I do best in for my O.W.L.'s," she said finally, laughing a bit. "Come on. History's about to start."

After history Cho Chung approached them, eyes wide and dark. Hermione felt her stomach sink. "I just wanted to let you know that I believe you," Cho said in a low, personal voice. "And Cedric does too."

Harry, predictably, flushed a dark red. "So- um- are you- I mean- you and him- uh, Cedric- still together, um, then?" Hermione managed not to wince at the mess he made of sentence. It was so obvious that he liked her, and all she could think about was Dumbledore's harsh words the night before.

"No," Cho said brusquely. "He's got a position as a Charms Apprentice in Switzerland." She shrugged, sending a look to Hermione. "He was being nice, and all, letting me go."

Suddenly, Hermione comprehended the kind of look Cho was sending her. She wanted Hermione to take Ron and leave, so she could ask Harry out in peace. Hermione's eyes narrowed, looking at the Scottish girl. "That was nice of him," she said, affecting a smile. She was about to do more when Ron did it for her.

"Is that a Tornado's badge?" he demanded, pointing a sky blue badge with a double gold T on Cho's robes. "You don't support them, do you?"

That particular fiasco finished quite nicely for Dumbledore's agenda- she needed to report to Severus. She quite accordingly rounded on Ron for disrupting Cho Chang in her efforts to try and get Harry alone, thus putting herself ahead of Ron in Harry's eyes. It was as funny as it was guilt racking- she had been about to do the same thing, but Ron beat her to it. The ensuing argument lasted until they reached the dungeons for Potions.

Hermione's stomach fluttered when she heard the door creak, and if she had been less controlled she would have squirmed in her seat. It had been bad enough, going to see him the night before. He had seemed preoccupied by something- but fairly enough, she had been preoccupied as well. But now-

Now Severus was moving gracefully and forcefully into the classroom, the door slamming shut behind him. "Settle down," he said coldly, voice as sharp and frosty as broken glass on a January day. Power seeped from him- the class could subconsciously sense it from the moment he walked in and they behaved accordingly. The raw strength she could feel coming from him made something in the depths of her belly quiver, and her breath come a bit quicker. Hurriedly, Hermione clamped down on the feeling, shutting behinds as many walls as she could conjure in her mind.

He, like all their other teachers, reminded them that they would be taking the O.W.L. examination in Potions in June, and he did it with his usual disdain and biting comments. She let her mind wander for a bit before snapping her attention back to his voice. "Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my… displeasure." The silky drawl drew another flutter from her stomach.

And then, in a moment that sent her heart racing, his eyes met hers- they were dark and menacing, appearing almost totally black in the dim light of the dungeons. She could see a trace of something in them- but what it was she couldn't quite identify. That bothered her slightly. She couldn't help but smile a little at his display of nonverbal magic as he put the instructions up on the board. The rest of the class didn't notice or recognize the amount of discipline or concentration it took, but she did.

As Ron and Harry had predicted, the Draught of Peace was a horribly finicky potion, and as Snape called out what should be happening at various stages, Hermione let her mind drift. There was a subtle art to potion making, and a kind of zone she could find herself in. It mostly happened when she was brewing with Severus, but somehow she found herself there again.

It was a potion she had made once before, so she wasn't having all the problems that Harry was. When Severus passed in front of her cauldron, he gave her the tiniest of nods before moving on. She could have beamed at the praise- he couldn't very well say anything in front of Malfoy or Crabbe or Goyle now that the Dark Lord had returned.

"Potter," Snape said suddenly, peering down at Harry's potion. "Stop. What is this supposed to be?"

The Slytherins looked up with anticipation- they watched with eager eyes, waiting for Snape to start taunting Harry. Hermione, however, had a sneaking suspicion that something wasn't right. Harry glared up at Snape. "The Draught of Peace," he said, voice taunt.

"Tell me, Potter," Snape said in his most dangerous voice- a quiet drawl that nonetheless traveled through the class. "Can you read?"

A laugh came from the vicinity of Draco Malfoy. Harry's face tensed further. "Yes, I can," he snapped.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter," Severus said, gesturing toward the board.

Harry squinted at the board, and Hermione's heart raced as she read the third line silently as he read it aloud. "Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore."

Hermione's heart sank- she hadn't been paying attention. The Draught of Peace was a potion with many subtle quirks, a potion that required finesse and exactness. At several points in the creation, it turned poisonous, explosive, or just plain dangerous. And therefore, the person who was making the potion needed to neutralize the potion at several different stages. The syrup of hellebore was one of these stabilizers. And Harry had forgotten it.

"No," Harry was saying. "I forgot the hellebore."

She could see that Severus was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. _Evanesco._" He vanished the potion just as it was turning a poisonous blue color, which precipitated the explosion. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, flinching when Snape's gaze turned upon her.

She had failed. She wasn't watching Harry, she had been too concentrated on her own potion. And Snape had noticed.

As he passed them, she caught the look he gave her. It was different from the eyes she normally saw, angrier, more annoyed.

With a low heart she joined Ron and Harry for lunch, desolately spooning shepherd's pie into her plate. Of course, as soon as they had arrived Ron and Harry started in on Severus.

And she felt compelled to defend him. "I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't' share it with you, Ron," she snapped. Of course Severus was a Death Eater and he was working for the Dark Lord, but he was loyal to Dumbledore.

"Can't you give it a rest?" Harry asked, anger darkening his eyes. "You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." He shoved away from the table and stormed off, leaving Ron and Hermione together.

The pair looked at each other. "Severus Snape is a man with plenty of secrets," Hermione said in a low voice, looking directly into Ron's eyes. "They are not ours to know. Dumbledore is perhaps the most brilliant mind the Wizarding World knows, and if he says that Professor Snape is on our side, then he is."

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione shot him a warning glance and held up her hand. "Harry is important right now," she continued. "He fits in here somehow, with defeating the Dark Lord. I could sense it, there in the graveyard. So to his wishes, we are going to stop fighting. Agreed?"

With a nudging feeling of guilt she slipped into his mind. There she could see him running through the consequences of disagreeing. _She would never help me with my homework again_ was the main thought.

"Agreed," he said. "Let's go." She stood up with him, quietly sighing because her plan of taking Ancient Runes that day was in ruins. Divination the first time around it was.

Divination was as stuffy and warm as always. Hermione detested the class- she would have given it up in third year, if she didn't have two very good reasons to continue taking it. One, if she stopped the class, that would be the only one she didn't have with Harry. And two, if she gave up the class she gave up her Time Turner. And that was too valuable to even consider losing.

She and Ron sat down on either side of Harry. He refused to look at them..

Hermione rested a hand on his arm, tightening her grip until he looked at her. When he finally did, his green eyes were a tumult of anger and what may have been guilt. "Ron and I would appreciate it if you would stop taking your anger out on us," she said quietly. "And while I understand that things are difficult right now, like I explained before alienating the people who support you will do nothing." When he dropped his gaze, she squeezed his arm again. "But then again, Ron and I decided to put an end to our… debates. For your peace of mind if not for ours."

"Thanks," Harry said gruffly.

Trelawney swooped in and began talking in a 'mystic' voice; Hermione relegated her lecture to the back of her mind until she registered the word 'dream.'

When she called for partners to form, Hermione caught Harry's eye and they agreed without saying a word. They didn't want to share dreams with those who had never had a true nightmare.

"Mate," Ron said, swiveling to join Harry. "We- oh." His face darkened when he realized that Harry and Hermione would be working together. "Okay." He clapped Neville on the shoulder and joined him instead.

With a quick swish of her wand and a whispered word, Hermione insured that no one would hear what she and Harry were saying. "Are you alright, Harry?"

"Yeah," he said immediately, opening the book. "Do you want to start?" He wasn't meeting her eye- he obviously wanted her to go first.

She hesitated, then shrugged. "Alright," said Hermione. "I dreamed that we were back in the graveyard…"

_It was cold and damp in the graveyard. Her shirt wasn't doing anything about the chill, but she knew she was focusing on that to avoid the reality of the situation. She was on the ground and there were heavy dark forms around her._

_And there were Harry's screams in the background. He was begging, she thought calmly. Begging for his life, begging for hers, screaming for someone to save them. _

_She turned her head and stared at a large stone cross as she waited for him to stop screaming. They were over, done for. Her knives were gone, her wand was gone, and she was trussed up like a pig. _

_The screams cut off abruptly, and she counted the seconds. One one hundred, two one hundred, three one hundred, four one hundred, five- and there they were again. This time it sounded like he was choking. _

_Hermione was scared by her own apathy, She knew she was going to die, she knew Harry was going to die, it was done and over with. _

_A sudden crack startled her and her head whipped around the other way. There was no mistaking the way he held his body, the arrogant tilt of his chin, the power in his stride. The way his robes billowed out around him._

_Before she could move or scream, Harry was gone, whirling away on a Portkey. She had been left behind, and it was just her and Severus and the Death Eaters. And, of course, the Dark Lord._

"_Severusss," he hissed. "Come to join us at last, traitor?" With one stroke of his wand and another hiss, Severus was dead. _

_Voldemort laughed evilly, a sound that sent a rush of pure terror down her spine. "Harry Potter is gone, but we still have his little Mudblood. Who is up for some sport, my friends?" _

"I'm in the graveyard," Hermione repeated. "And we are watching as Pettigrew is making the potion. But instead of using his hand, he comes for mine." This was a different dream she had. It would do for now.

Harry is now watching her in horror. "Hermione-"

"He takes my hands and I can do nothing," she continues, closing her eyes so she doesn't need to see his. "And this time I can't use my knives and I can do nothing while they kill you and take me." She opens her eyes again. "So what does that tell you about my future?"

There is safety in the book. "The removal of the hands suggests that there is a situation in which you will feel helpless," Harry recites dully, continuing with minimal prompting from her. Before long, her dream has been 'analyzed' to shreds and it's his turn.

"What about the dream you had when you came to Headquarters that first night?" Hermione suggested.

Harry was immediately defensive. "It was simple. You died, he laughed, I died."

The look she pinned him with made him sigh. "It was weird. I had been dreaming something different before, and then I was dreaming the graveyard dream."

By now she was so practiced at this, Hermione didn't have to work overly hard to conceal her excitement. Instead, she just allowed a little leak of curiosity to show. "Oh? What was that dream?"

Harry seemed reluctant to answer. "I dunno. I was walking and then I stopped at a door. I've been having it for a few weeks. But then I felt something like a snapping and a lull and then I was tied to the gravestone again. Voldemort was torturing you and he killed you. And you were doing the knife thing."

Crap. They had never talked about how she had fought with knives, and she didn't want to talk about it now. "Let's start analyzing." As they looked up various aspects of the dream in the text, Hermione let her mind wander to the night Harry had dreamed that, remembering her conversation with Severus. If the Dark Lord was really sending Harry those dreams, then they had a problem. She would have to see him later in the day.

The bell rang just as they finished the (admittedly ridiculous) dream analysis. Hermione gathered her things with a growing dread- next they had double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Umbridge.

* * *

**And so ends Chapter 13.**

**Not quite a cliffhanger, although I have definitely changed some of the events of the next chapter. You all have a slight idea of what's coming. Mwahaha. **

**For those who are interested, YES MY COMPUTER IS HERE and I'm in the middle of either chapter 20 or 21. Can't remember just yet. (hint hint- SPOILERS Severus and Hermione just had a talk about a certain red haired martyr SPOILERS OVER)**

**Also, personal life: Dead. School, work, home, stress, too little sleep, college apps, letters of recommendation, lesson planning, homework... yeah. And as some of ****you might know, I moved states last year in the middle of my junior year (which sucked) and so I'm still surrounded by people who are best friends and planning a superawesome Friday sleepover and I'm sitting there thinking _ I miss my friends and I can't wait to go to college. _ Which isn't fun. But I have my awesome readers and my tumblr people so I'm doing okay.**

**Here is your preview (Sorry I forgot last week I literally put that chapter on Doc manager 3 seconds before I posted):**

**_"And now you've just given us the largest pile of dragon shite I've ever heard in this classroom," Hermione said insolently. "And in our second year, we had Gilderoy Lockhart as a teacher." _**

**_Now gasps echoed around the classroom. Hermione stood calmly, look Umbridge right in the eye. "Now, if Voldemort- oh, stop it it's just a name- isn't alive and kicking, who was at the Graveyard with Harry and me? Who tortured me until I could hardly move? Who cursed me as we were escaping and kept me in the Hospital Wing for days?"_**

**See you next time! OR IF YOU WANT ANOTHER HERMIONE/SEVERUS STORY I wrote another one. It'll be updated soon. It's called _To Love and All It Entails_ and it takes place in America 7 years after the war. Hermione is 25, Severus is 45. Hopefully that'll tide you over until the next post, which will be on September 20th!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello, my dears.**

**Short chapter, especially after last week's. Sorry- there was no good way to split it up and I didn't have the time to write an extra scene. But to make up for that, I'll be updating _To Love and All it Entails_ very, very soon. **

**Many thanks for all the reviews. I really adore this particular section of the fandom- you all have such good things to say, so insightful!**

**AND BY THE WAY HOLY COW MORE HARRY POTTER MOVIES. **

**Enjoy the chapter.**

**_Chapter 14_**

The students filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom cautiously- as was habit on the first day by now. They didn't yet know if this teacher would be like Lupin or- perhaps- like Snape. Therefore, it was best to approach the first day and first interactions carefully. Umbridge was an unknown quantity, and no one wished to risk her wrath before they knew how strict a disciplinarian she was.

Umbridge was seated at her desk, watching them with beady eyes as they found seats. The snooty girly-girl in Hermione shuddered at the horrendous fluffy pink cardigan, and black velvet bow the professor was wearing. The way the bow was perched and gleaming dully in the light from the wall scones made Hermione rather uncomfortably aware of Umbridge's unfortunate resemblance to a toad with a large fly on its head.

"Well, good afternoon!" she said in a sickly sweet voice, clapping her hands together.

_How old does she think we are? Five? _The few scattered replies made Umbridge's little smile falter.

"Tut, tut. _That_ won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

Exchanging a few wondering glances, the class immediately chanted, "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge."

The awful smile returned. "There, now," she said sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please." _If anything, she's polite,_ Hermione thought sarcastically, slipping her wand back into her holster. She had a bad feeling about this.

Umbridge's own wand had produced the words, "Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles," on the blackboard. She cleared her throat once, then began to speak. "Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year."

The woman smirked maliciously, hands clasped in front of her. She continued speaking, but Hermione set a portion of her mind to record and analyze the speech while she considered her options. _Damn it. This is why I wanted to rest and prepare before encountering Madam Toad. _

"Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory _by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," the class chorused, having learned from their mistake. Hermione frowned down at her book- it was dreadfully dull, and managed to say absolutely nothing in several long, verbose chapters. Severus had immediately dismissed it as complete drivel.

_Now's the time to show a little bit of disobedience. Start the ball rolling, so to speak. I can call her out on the book. And I've just noticed something not so surprising about her 'course aims.' _

Hermione stared down at her book, took a breath, then raised her hand. She kept her face composed, not angry or upset, but calm.

Umbridge had seen her- their eyes met in an instant, too fast for Hermione to delve into her mind before she turned away, looking resolutely in another direction.

_Bitch, _Hermione remarked calmly in her mind. _Now it's personal. Unless I want to be ignored, I really don't like being ignored. _

Hermione was proud of her fitness- she kept up her exercise routine religiously during school year and summer alike- but even her arm began to ache by the time Harry looked up and met her eyes. She shook her head at his questioning look, continuing to stare at Umbridge.

One by one, her classmates were leaving their boring chapter for her far more interesting struggle with Umbridge. Hermione could feel their eyes on her, something that made her almost as uncomfortable as Severus' gaze had been the night before. It was a testament to how boring the book was that a girl sitting silently with her hand up was more interesting- although the fact that the girl was Hermione Granger may have had something to do with it.

The fifth year students of Hogwarts (save her close friends) had never seen Hermione Granger rebel against any teacher. Now she was acting in mute defiance, book closed on her desk. Umbridge was playing right into Hermione's hands- by refusing to acknowledge the Gryffindor, Umbridge was publicly losing the support of Hermione Granger, swot and teacher's pet extraordinaire.

Hermione Granger was liked by teachers, and Hermione Granger liked teachers. Hermione Granger was not liked by Umbridge, and Hermione Granger did not like Umbridge. Therefore, Umbridge was not a teacher. It was simple, base logic that the students probably didn't even know they were performing subconsciously.

When more than half the class was more focused on Hermione than on the textbook, Professor Umbridge seemed to realize that she could stall no longer. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" the woman asked with a little start of surprise, as if she had just noticed Hermione.

"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.

Umbridge's expression faltered in its sweetness for an instant. "Well, we're reading just now," she said, smiling pointedly at Hermione. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione said clearly, tossing back her heavy mane of curls, eyeing Umbridge with just a hint of defiance.

This surprised the teacher- she raised pallid little eyebrows in a moue of surprise. "And your name is…"

Hermione grinned sharply. "Hermione Granger," she drawled, a twitch of her lips acknowledging the recognition that spread across Umbridge's face before the Ministry witch clamped down on it. _That's right. I'm the girl who spat at Voldemort and quite basically told him to take his scaly arse to hell._

"Well, _Miss Granger_, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," Professor Umbridge said sweetly. Hermione could have almost imagined the emphasis on her name. There were a few titters in the rest of the class- Hermione not reading something carefully? Preposterous. Again, this lapse of judgment brought Umbridge down another notch in the collective subconscious.

Time for bluntness. "Well, I don't. There's nothing written up there about _using_ defensive spells." There was a moment of silence as the class turned to check the class aims on the board.

_Course aims:_

_1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic._

_2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used. _

_3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use. _

Umbridge giggled nervously. "_Using_ defensive spells? Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron half-shouted, outrage in his voice.

Umbridge turned her beady little eyes on him. "Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—" she snapped.

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand in the air.

With a smirk, Umbridge turned her back on him. Immediately, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and raised their own hands simultaneously. She couldn't ignore all of them- the whole class was monitoring the situation carefully.

Although her pouchy eyes lingered a second too long on Harry, Umbridge addressed Hermione. "Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

Hermione smiled primly. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?" She knew that there was an authoritative ring to her voice, and that it would make Umbridge bristle.

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" she asked in her false-sweet voice, obviously trying to sound harmless, dangerous, and in control at the same time. It didn't work.

"No," Hermione replied coolly.

"Well then, I'm afraid you're not qualified to decided what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-"

"What's the use in that?" Harry interrupted loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it's not going to be in a secure-"

"_Hand_, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge. Harry scowled and thrust his hand in the air again, face darkening when Umbridge turned away yet again. This time, however, plenty of other students had their hands in the air.

Umbridge smiled at them, an expression Hermione was realizing was a tell for when the woman was mad or upset. She grinned herself- Umbridge was getting easier and easier to read. "And your name is?" Umbridge asked Dean.

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

Dean bristled slightly. "_Well_, it's like Harry said, isn't it? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free-"

"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, her smile growing wider and more irritating, "Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?" Dean tried to say something, but she spoke over him. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed- not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin," Dean piped up angrily, "He was the best we ever-"

"_Hand,_ Mr. Thomas! As I was saying- you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate for your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day-"

"No we haven't," Hermione interrupted, pitching her voice so that it carried over Umbridge's. "We just-"

"_Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!_" Hermione put her hand up, and Umbridge turned away again. "It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them _on_ you-"

Dean spoke again. "Well, he turned out to be a maniac didn't he? Mind you, we still learned loads from him-"

Umbridge seemed closer and closer to snapping. Hermione was feeling just the slightest bit wary of pushing her farther. Her suspicions were confirmed when Umbridge trilled, "_Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas_ " very loudly.

She was breathing heavily, but continued to talk. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is all about." That made Hermione angry- school was about more than getting an O on every test. It was about learning what you needed to learn for the future.

"And your name is?" Umbridge asked, sweet again, as Parvati's hand shot up. Her nose, however, crinkled in disdain that Hermione read and interpreted (quite correctly) as Umbridge's distaste for the color of Parvati's skin. That made Hermione's blood boil- the girl could be silly sometimes, but Hermione had shared a dorm with her for five years and Parvati Patil was one of the nicest girls Hermione had ever met.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Art's O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter curses and things?" Hermione smiled tightly as Parvati asked the same question she had wanted to raise.

Umbridge shook her head dismissively. "As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions."

"Without practicing them before?" asked Parvati incredulously. Although it was her sister and not herself who was in Ravenclaw, Parvati shared some characteristics with her more studious and less bold twin. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam? Under all that stress and pressure?"

Umbridge sneered slightly. "I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough-"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" asked Harry loudly, his fist in the air again. Hermione felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Harry's face was flushed, and the line of his neck and shoulders tight. He was angry, and ready to explode.

Professor Umbridge regarded him coolly. "This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?" Harry asked, a desperate tone to his voice.

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter," Umbridge repeated, in the same calm voice.

Harry glared. "Oh yeah?" he said disrespectfully. Hermione winced- his temper, which had been boiling all day, had reached boiling point.

Umbridge narrowed her eyes, and showed her pointy teeth again. She was setting something up, Hermione could tell. "Who do you imagine wants to attack _children_ like yourselves?" inquired the professor in a horribly honeyed voice.

Hermione jumped in, cutting a glance at Harry. "I'd say the obvious one, Professor Umbridge. Lord Voldemort." There was hardly a hitch in her voice- but the rest of the class room reacted violently. Ron gasped, Lavender Brown gave a pathetic, whimpering scream. Neville slipped sideways off his stool, falling to the ground with a thud.

Professor Umbridge did not flinch, staring at Hermione with a satisfied expression on her face. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

The classroom was silent, but loud with shock. Hermione Granger losing points in class? Unheard of. Everyone was staring at either Hermione or Umbridge.

The awful witch smiled grimly. "Now let me make a few things quite plain," she stated, leaning toward them across the desk, spreading her stubby fingers across the worn wood. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead-"

"He wasn't dead," Harry interjected angrily. "But yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr. Potter, ten points from Gryffindor. Your housemate has already lost your house ten points _do not make matters worse_," Umbridge said in one breath, not looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large again. _This is a lie._"

"It is NOT a lie!" Harry shouted. "I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" cried Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening, five o'clock, my office. I repeat, _this is a lie._ The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now-"

"And now you've just given us the largest pile of dragon shite I've ever heard in this classroom," Hermione said insolently. "And in our second year, we had Gilderoy Lockhart as a teacher."

Now gasps echoed around the classroom. Hermione stood calmly, look Umbridge right in the eye. "Now, if Voldemort- oh, stop it it's just a name- isn't alive and kicking, who was at the Graveyard with Harry and me? Who tortured me until I could hardly move? Who cursed me as we were escaping and kept me in the Hospital Wing for days?"

Thirty eagerly listening faces were turned up at Hermione, craving gossip about what had happened in the graveyard. "Would you like to see my scars, Professor?" Hermione asked dangerously. "Lord Voldemort is back and you know it."

"Detention for you as well, Miss Granger," Umbridge hissed. "Same time as Mr. Potter. Both you, come up to my desk."

Hermione slid out from behind her desk with the grace of a cat, whilst Harry kicked his chair aside with a loud noise, skirting around Ron with an angry stride. Their eyes met, and he took a shuddering breath.

Umbridge had taken out a small roll of pink parchment, writing something on it and tapping it closed with her unusually short wand. "Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," she simpered, the light of victory cold in her eyes.

Hermione took it from her without a word, turning on her heel and gliding out of the classroom, barely noticing when Harry slammed the door behind them.

With his longer legs, he quickly caught up with her. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, genuine worry in his eyes. "I-"

Hermione shook her head. "The Wizarding World needs to know what happened that night," she said quietly, fiercely. "Professor Umbridge is the symbol of the Ministry and all its lying propaganda at Hogwarts. We oppose her, we oppose them and their stubborn refusal to see the truth."

"But you've got detention…" Harry said, a bit confused. "Why are you not freaking out?"

_Oh, Harry. You are so, so clueless. _

"There are things more important than detentions," Hermione told him, laying a hand on his arm. "Harry, I would suffer through a thousand detentions with Professor Snape if it meant knowing people realize that Voldemort is back." _Although it wouldn't exactly be suffering…_

Harry's eyes were burning as he looked into hers. "I hate her already," he whispered.

"I do too," Hermione whispered back. "Now. Come one. We need to get this to Professor McGonagall."

Harry and Hermione were sitting, trying very hard not to squirm under the hard gaze of Professor McGonagall. Hermione had half-feared that she would erupt with her infamous temper; rather, the Scottish witch had tersely offered them biscuits.

"Potter, Granger. I expected better out of both of you." The part of Hermione that always craved the approval of adults cringed. Hermione kept her face straight, munching on a ginger newt.

McGonagall continued to lecture, but Hermione zoned out- she was more focused on analyzing what had happened in Umbridge's class.

She- and Harry- had done plenty of good in discrediting Professor Dolores Umbridge as a teacher. With the help of Dean and Parvati, they had ripped apart her phony course aims, and the proceeded to demonstrate how unlike any other teacher she was.

Hermione was satisfied- and wonder what Severus would think.

"Miss Granger, are you paying any attention to me at all?" Professor McGonagall snapped.

Hermione blinked and sat straighter. "Of course, Professor," she said innocently. "You just told us that this isn't about truth or lies, it's about keeping our mouths shut and our tempers under control." Her eyes met McGonagall's and hardened.

The Transfiguration professor sighed. "Quite right, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter, please go wait outside. I need to talk to Miss Granger alone."

With a questioning glance, Harry stood and left the room. As soon as he was gone Hermione sagged a bit in her chair, rubbing her eyes with one hand. After a moment's hesitation, she dropped her Glamour. It was time to regain a bit of authority with McGonagall.

When Hermione uncovered her face, McGonagall's quick intake of breath was audible. "You look like you've just aged two years in front of me," she remarked wryly. "How are you holding up, Hermione?"

Hermione gave a grim smile. "Alright. Professor Umbridge is a pain in the neck. But Severus and I have a plan for taking care of her."

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Take care of her?" she asked questioningly. She had "accidentally" seen Hermione practicing with her knives at Safe House Three over the summer. It hadn't been an accident at all- Hermione and Severus wanted to make sure that McGonagall realized that Hermione was capable of protecting Harry, and therefore trust her decisions.

"Nothing on that level yet," said Hermione, allowing a slightly cruel smile to spread across her face as she nodded at her professor. "Actually, as irritating as she is now and is going to get, she's useful."

"How so?" McGonagall asked. It struck Hermione in that moment how old Professor McGonagall was. Her skin was frail and papery, wrinkles almost as deep as Dumbledore's. Witches aged well- Professor McGonagall was probably in her nineties and nearing her hundreds. Dumbledore was one hundred and fourteen years old- they had been leading the side of Light for a long time.

Hermione cleared her throat. "We set her up as a figurehead for opposition. If we start an 'underground' movement and rebellion against Umbridge, we can set up a base of allies for Harry. An idea I was playing around with was having him lead a Defense club- but with Umbridge, I doubt we could get official permission. But again, we make it clandestine and forge bonds of loyalty through secrecy. The more Harry- and I- oppose Umbridge, the closer we get to creating a pool of students who believe Harry and know real defensive spells." Her nose wrinkled. "I don't suppose Dumbledore told you our plan?"

"No, he didn't," McGonagall said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "The old goat. It sounds like a brilliant, if somewhat dangerous plan, Hermione. What can I do to help?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair and considered the question for a moment. "I wanted to get the teachers involved, but I figured it would happen on its own eventually. When things get worse- and a contact at the Ministry is promising things will get worse soon- do your best to subtly encourage the students in their rebellion."

"I'll do what I can," McGonagall promised. "Now I believe you have dinner to get to."

Hermione rose, and reapplied the Glamour. "I'm going to do my best to keep Harry calm," she reassured McGonagall. "Because if he gets too angry he will either lose his head, or try something I'm not sure I can stop. Thanks for the biscuits."

* * *

Dinner was slightly tense, Harry, Hermione, and Ron eating together at the far end of the table and ignoring those around them who were either gossiping about class or trying to listen in on the conversation. The trio ate quickly and hurried back to the Common Room.

There Fred and George were testing their products on the first years again- with a huff of frustration Hermione stalked over and ended it, managing to sneak a few Fainting Fancies into her sleeve when she took the bag from George. After threatening to owl their mother, she stomped back to Ron and Harry. It wasn't long before she declared herself unable to concentrate and ascended the stairs to the Girls' Dormitory.

Usually, Hermione would spin back to the morning and go straight to bed. But tonight, Hermione wanted to talk to Severus before turning back. She waited until she could see a shimmer leaning against the wall near Harry and Ron, then excused herself to go to bed.

Lavender and Parvati were in the room, talking. When Hermione entered, they looked up.

"Hermione?" Lavender's soft high voice was hesitant and shaky. "I'm sorry about this morning. Really. I- I wasn't thinking."

Hermione sat down on her bed, and leaned over, covering her eyes with her hands as if she was holding back tears. Immediately, Lavender and Parvati were next her.

"I'm sorry was I snappy this morning," Hermione apologized. "It's- just-" she heaved a sigh of frustration, and looked Lavender right in the other girl's big blue eyes. "You don't know how terrifying it is to know that Lord- that _monster_ is back and no one is doing anything about it," said Hermione fiercely. "I looked into his eyes, I saw how evil he was. He would have killed me in an instant if Harry hadn't stepped in."

She turned her head to look at Parvati. "Professor Umbridge is trying to hold back the truth. The Ministry is trying to discredit Harry. Everything is going wrong."

"We believe you, Hermione," Parvati said, squeezing Hermione's hand. "I'm going to write to my family. Tell them to watch out."

"Me too," Lavender promised. "Although I don't think my mum will believe me."

Hermione smiled weakly. "Thank you," she whispered. "Goodnight." She debated dressing for bed in a way that would let them see her scar, but decided against it. It would happen eventually with the close quarters the three girls shared.

It was almost midnight when Parvati's breathing evened out and Lavender started snoring. _Finally._ Hermione slipped her robe over her pajamas and cast a Disillusionment charm. She crept from the room, easing the door shut to avoid waking up Lavender or Parvati. Even if they did wake, the Hermione shaped illusion under the covers would fool them.

The Fat Lady painting swung outward, then back, but she was used to Hermione's comings and goings and it only took a whispered "Hello," to calm her. Then Hermione was on her way to the dungeons.

A sliver of yellow light was spilling from Severus' office when she arrived. Hermione knocked twice on the door, then opened it and ducked it.

From his desk, Severus inclined his head. "Good evening," he said as a quiet greeting. His eyes were solemn in his pale face, regarding her with their usual intensity. "What took so long?"

Hermione canceled the charm and her Glamour, shaking out her hair. "I got caught by Parvati and Lavender and had to sit through their apologies. What have you heard so far?" She cocked her head, and frowned. "It might be best if we do this elsewhere."

Severus nodded, rising in one fluid motion. "I agree. Would you like some tea?"

"I would love some," Hermione said, giving him a genuine smile. "I'm feeling dangerously sleepy."

The Potions Master strode the back of the room, pressing his palm to the stone and whispering the password. He gestured that she go first, and with a vague shiver of _something_ running down her spine, Hermione entered the set of false chambers.

The Potions cabinet was the same, Severus holding open the door and waving her through. Hermione wondered for a moment if something was going on, but his eyes were as dark and emotionless as ever, so she dismissed it. _Foolish daydreams of a foolish girl._

She settled into the same armchair she had used the time before, gratefully accepting the warm mug of tea when Severus offered it. He sat across from her, long fingers wrapped around his own mug. There were no dainty teacups for Severus Snape- instead, he used sturdy mugs that could hold a decent amount of liquid.

"So…" Hermione drawled. "I misbehaved today." She smirked at Severus, who had stiffened for some reason. "Gave the Gryffindors a surprise, that's for sure."

Severus coughed and took a sip of tea. "According to the staff room gossip, both you and Potter put on quite a show for the class." There was a dryness to his voice. His long fingers tapped out a slow rhythm on the arm of his chair.

Hermione smiled slowly, teeth glinting dangerously in the light from the fireplace. "It was lovely," she drawled. "We riled her up quite a bit. As a result, Harry and I have detention tomorrow."

"I can surmise that the first step of our plan is coming to its middle?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. "We didn't spend enough time outlining this last night. I suggest we do so now."

Against her will, Hermione's mouth stretched in a yawn. "Sure," she said, blinking a few times. "Let's get some parchment and a quill." Severus rose to fetch the required items, and Hermione moved to the sofa, patting the seat next to her when he returned. "We need to be able to see what the other's doing," she said by way of explanation.

He sighed, and set the materials down. "I'm writing," he said sternly. "You'd take all night organizing everything." He sat next to her, and started fiddling with the parchment and ink, getting comfortable.

_Of course it has nothing to do with the way he looks right now, shrugging off his teaching robes, or the fact that he's going to be close enough to smell and to feel the warmth of his skin. His arms look so strong- I knew that, he can lift me- but with is sleeves rolled up- no. It has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing at all. _

Hermione ran her fingers over her scalp, pulling her masses of curls into a semblance of a bun to keep it out of her face. "Today I started with the tantalization. I mentioned what happened in the graveyard."

Severus nodded sharply. "Good. The fact that it was you should be all over the school by breakfast tomorrow." He wrote it in his spiky hand on the page. _Drop hints about what happened at the graveyard._

"I heard from one of my contacts at the Ministry that Dolores Umbridge will be made Hogwarts High Inquisitor in a few weeks," Severus said gravely. "She will be given power that would be ludicrous normally. Making school decrees, firing teachers…"

Hermione took a minute to think about it. "As much as I hate to say it… this might be beneficial to our cause. If she makes several awful rules, it will turn the students against her that quicker. When do you think would be a good time to start our clandestine defense group?"

"Soon," Severus said, a hand rising unconsciously to pinch the bridge of his nose. "How long do you think it will take to convince Potter?"

_Well, Harry will need a trigger, but if I plant the information in his head now it will have time for him to consider it… _"A month. Maybe two," Hermione admitted. "Sooner if something happens. I should mention it to him soon, give him time to think it over."

Severus made note of it on their paper. "What else?"

"How far do you think the teachers will go to oppose Umbridge?" asked Hermione. "I gave McGonagall a brief description of what we were doing, and she promised to subtly help."

It was clear that Severus was surprised. "And how did she take that?"

"Well enough," Hermione said with a shrug, then paused, turning to look at Severus. "Do you- I played her. And I did it well. I-" she stopped, unable to verbalize how she felt. She gazed at Severus pleadingly. "Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

The warmth that suddenly suffused his eyes made a little something twinge, a little flutter under her ribs. "Yes, Hermione," he said, a kind of gentleness in his tone. "You feel guilty for manipulating someone."

"It's silly, isn't it?" Hermione said, looking away. For some reason, whenever he could see right through her, she felt ashamed. "It's what I've been preparing to do for the past few years. I did the same to Lavender and Parvati earlier and- it feels wrong."

She could feel a tingling in her shoulder, and a second later a hesitant hand rested there. "It's not silly, Hermione. It is completely natural to harbor feelings of guilt after manipulating people you respect or genuinely like. If you didn't, I'd be worried that you would turn out like Dumbledore and take steps to remove you from positions of power. No one did that for him and look at the old goat now."

His voice sounded divine, like the rich savory sweet of honey in the back of the throat. "Does he feel any guilt?" she asked.

"He used to," Severus said bluntly. "Now… he's gotten used to it. It still pains him when Order members die, but he no longer bends under the weight of their death and suffering. He's removed himself from them. He rationalizes it away. He has to- he has no choice."

Hermione looked at him, his mostly impassive face with caring eyes. The dearness of his face to her heart made her stomach clench in warning. "Then what do I do? Become like him?"

"No," Severus said harshly. "In the moment you continue without pause. But later, in a safe place, in a safe time, you feel regret and guilt."

Their eyes met. _It is so easy for me to lose myself in his eyes,_ Hermione thought. _It feels as if there is a shield around us, that we are the only two left on this earth._ "Do you feel regret and guilt?" she asked, voice unintentionally dropping lower in pitch.

She didn't know that her own eyes were just as mesmerizing to him, or that his breath hitched in his throat as his pulse rose.

His eyes darkened. "Yes," he answered, unconsciously echoing her tone, voice dropping huskily. There was a flash of understanding in that moment, and Hermione could almost sense all the pain Severus had ever felt, all the sorrow and regret and gut-wrenching guilt.

All she wanted to do was take his head and cradle it against her chest, to hold him, to run her hands through his hair again-

And his hand left her shoulder and he turned away, back to the paper. "Potter will need to lead the group, but you will need assist him in the background," he said, tone normal again.

"Right," Hermione said, brutally shoving all emotion down. _In a safe time, in a safe place,_ she reminded herself. _Not here. _

As the door closed behind Hermione, Severus frowned at the empty room. He should have felt relief that she was gone- no more curls to distract his attention, no more liquid brown eyes pulling candid confessions, no more pale skin alive with the rouges of firelight. And yet, he felt disappointed.

It had been entirely disconcerting, the feeling that occupied him when she was around. Not that it hadn't been there before- but then he hadn't recognized it for what it was. Now he knew that the surge of awe at her wit and the appreciation of her form were full of less-than-pure intent.

He glanced down at the abandoned plan, left on the coffee table. It was full of his spiky handwriting and her flowing script. About halfway through she had looked at him, sighed, and snatched the paper away, shoving at lines with the tip of her wand to reorganize it.

_Even her bossiness is endearing,_ he thought. _Dear lord. Dumbledore would have my job and my head. If the Dark Lord knew that that I l- cared for a muggleborn chit of eighteen then he would make an example of us both._

He sank back down on the sofa they had shared, instead of his favorite armchair, draping the part of his legs that were too long for the sofa over the arm rather than enlarging it. He could smell the soap she used, much fainter than when she had been there. He wondered what she would smell like if she used his shampoo. His soap. He felt a strange longing to know what it would be like to have her marked as his so subtly.

Roughly Severus dragged a hand over his face, rising in a frustrated motion. It was close to one in the morning- it was time to sleep.

* * *

**And so ends Chapter 14.**

**I know, I know. Short. But tell me what else you thought about it. **

**Life has been slowing down a bit- but- good news!- I got National Merit Scholar Semi-Finalist. Although that means another set of applications, I'm super excited. School has been driving me nuts, work is challenging, and WELCOME TO NIGHTVALE IS AWESOME go check it out. **

**I'll be updating, and probably finishing, my other SS/HG story very soon. Go read it! It is very different from this one. **

**Also... the extract before I forget. **

**_"Did you have a good nap, Hermione?" Severus drawled, raising an eyebrow and smirking at her. _**

**_Predictably, she scowled at him. "No. Your couch is rubbish." _**

**_"Liar," he said, still smirking. "Or else you wouldn't have fallen asleep." _**

**_She looked like an angry kitten when she was scowling- he could almost forget she was dangerous. "I did come here for a reason, you know. I don't just break into your rooms for fun."_**

**_He actually chuckled. "You didn't break into my rooms, you have a password," he retorted. "What did you come about?_**

**And that's all for this week. Next chapter will be on October 4th!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello All!**

**It is not only Friday, but it is update Friday! Yay! And this chapter will bring us to 100k+ words!**

**Last week I had the misfortune of updating on a day that the site went down, so I'm afraid not many people saw it. I know I didn't hear from many of my regular reviewers. Hopefully won't crash today!**

**I hope that this chapter lives up the all the expectations. Much more romance-y stuff now. :) And a much longer chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

_**Chapter 15**_

The next night (for everyone but Hermione at least- for her it had been far more than a day) dinner was eaten quickly to allow enough time for Harry and Hermione to make it to their detention.

In Hermione's opinion, the entire day had been rather awful. They had Charms and Transfiguration in the morning, which hadn't been so bad, but Harry and Ron both seemed to be in worsening moods. Hermione suspected they hadn't done a whit of homework the night before and were starting to regret it as essay after assignment after essay began to pile on them. The boys had spent their lunch period in the Library, leaving Hermione to eat alone at the end of the table. She pulled out a book on advanced biochemistry and potions and set to reading with her sandwiches.

Harry was worried about Hagrid- Hermione didn't know why Dumbledore didn't think it would be prudent just to _tell_ Harry where Hagrid was if just to stop the lout from poking around and making Hagrid's disappearance obvious. Hermione got a prickly feeling when Draco made a snide comment about Hagrid being caught up in a situation too "big" for him- it was very clear that Lucius Malfoy was giving his son information. Draco had expected Harry to catch the reference. Lucius- and probably the Dark Lord- thought that Harry knew more than he did.

She'd have to tell Severus later, and work out with him if it was a good or bad thing. Her head was aching too much right then to concentrate. At least both Luna and Ernie had publicly declared where they stood. That was one person from each House, excluding Slytherin. And even though Luna was a bit strange, Hermione was sure that she would be a valuable resource.

After a rather noisy and impetuous visit from Angelina, Harry and Hermione had scarfed their food, and made their way to where they stood now, outside Umbridge's office on the third floor. They paused in front of the door, and Hermione reached out to grip Harry's shoulder.

"You need to control your temper tonight," Hermione said, eyes making it clear she was serious. "We both lost it last time. Now we need to go in there and be calm and rational. We don't need to be remorseful- we just don't need to give her a reason to give us any more detentions."

Harry's green eyes flashed in anger, but then calmed as he processed the common sense in what she was saying. His muscles tensed and then relaxed under her hand. "Alright," he said, and made to turn away.

"Wait-" Hermione said. "If for some reason something does happen, let me confront her. You really can't afford any more trouble, and I can." She grinned in self-deprecation. "Being a know-it-all swot has its benefits, you know?"

Harry returned her grin. "On your head," he replied, nudging her playfully. "Let's go in."

They pushed open the door, and Hermione's stomach rolled a bit at the sight within. The first thing that hit her was the explosion of pink.

The second thing that unsettled her completely were the kittens that were frolicking in porcelain plates on the walls. The sickening sweetness contrasted with how those plates were typically created made her clench her fists in horror. If there was anything Hermione abhorred it was cruelty to animals. The souls of those kittens had been (painfully) wrenched from their bodies and trapped on the plates. It made Hermione want to clutch Crookshanks and give him all the cap nip he could ever want.

"Good evening," Harry said next to her, tone deliberately even. He glanced at her.

"Good evening," Hermione echoed, unclenching her hands and smoothing her robes.

Umbridge ignored them for a moment, adding something to piece of pink stationary. Then she looked up, smiling sharply. "Good evening," she relied sweetly.

"Tonight you will be writing lines," Umbridge simpered. Both Harry and Hermione moved to take writing materials from their bags, but a giggle stopped them. _How old are you?_ Hermione thought snarkily. _Twelve?_

She opened a drawer in her desk and withdrew two long black quills, holding them with an almost tangible reverence. "You will be using these. Please provide your own paper."

Hermione frowned trying to remember where she had seen those before- and then it hit her. "You foul woman," she snarled. "Those are illegal in Great Britain, except for use in signing binding magical contracts. Not only would you be fired for using them because of the 'just punishment' clauses of the Hogwarts charter, you would probably be fined 500 Galleons per quill, if you don't end up in Azkaban."

Umbridge's eyes lit up. "Miss Granger, twenty points from Gryffindor for insulting a professor and speaking out of turn."

"Those are illegal," Hermione insisted, eyes narrowed. "Prolonged use will cause lasting harm."

Harry was visibly confused next to her. "Hermione?" he asked in a low voice.

"Those are blood quills, Harry," Hermione answered, eyes focused on Umbridge. "You don't use ink. It scratches the words into the back of your hand and uses your blood for ink. The cut heals, of course, but prolonged use will leave scars on the back of the hand. They're illegal dark artifacts, and the only place they can be legally used is in Gringotts or the Ministry to sign contracts in blood. If you break such a contract, your blood boils in your veins, which is why the use of such quills are restricted."

Umbridge tapped one of the quills against her lips. "True, true… Miss Granger. Completely true, unless, of course, you have a special writ from the Minister of Magic himself." The grin on her face turned truly vicious.

Hermione glared at her. "It could quite possibly ruin Minster Fudge's political career if it was revealed that he gave a teacher permission to use a device that causes permanent scarring on _children._" Her tone wasn't quite threatening- but it was close.

Clearly, Umbridge knew what Hermione was doing. "And for that, Miss Granger, you will write out 'I must not speak ill of my betters.' Mr. Potter, your lines are 'I must not tell lies.' Sit. Get to it."

"Professor Umbridge-" Hermione started again.

The woman stopped her, holding up one chubby ringed hand. "_Enough,_ Miss Granger. One more word out of you and I will extend your detentions into next week."

"Why shouldn't I report you?" Hermione asked, voice deadly. "Tell me why I shouldn't leave this room right now and go to Professor McGonagall. Or better yet, Headmaster Dumbledore."

The professor's beady little eyes narrowed further. "Miss Granger, I hear you are Muggleborn," the professor said, voice sickeningly sweet, even though her eyes were cold. "You do not know the way things work in our world. For instance, connections. For example, I have a very good friend who works at the Ministry, in the Department of Muggleborn Administrations. They are the ones responsible for keeping all the information on Muggleborns- grades, addresses, parent's names… they are the ones who can input and… _edit_… information. Now in the Wizarding world, if I do her a favor, she does me one. _Do you understand what I am saying?_"

_If she does a friend is such a position then she could change my scores, my information. She also thinks she is threatening my family, she has no idea that I sent them away. As far as the Ministry is concerned, their last known residence burned down. No bodies were found, presumed missing, etc. This is where I stand down, as little as I like this situation._

Harry looked ready to yell, but Hermione met his eyes and shook her head once brusquely.

"Perfectly," Hermione spat out through gritted teeth.

Umbridge put a quill on each desk. "Then get to work, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter. And Miss Granger, I will take another twenty points from Gryffindor."

The two Gryffindors got to work. Their backs were facing Umbridge, so only Hermione saw the surprise on Harry's face at the sting from the quill. She steeled herself, and wrote in cramped script:

_I must not speak ill of my betters._

The cuts in her hand healed instantly, leaving only a red flush on her pale skin. Hermione had dealt with worse pain before- just the fact that this was self-inflicted and, frankly, demeaning made it worse that training with Moody.

_I must not speak ill of my betters, my arse,_ she thought angrily. _I see no betters in her. Or in that idiot Fudge. This will not be a hard promise to keep. _

As the night wore on, Hermione carefully monitored the painful looking tender skin on both her hand and Harry's. She was half tempted to switch hands, but decided against it. She only wanted this particular scar on one hand.

When Umbridge finally released her and Harry, they walked in silence until they were two corridors away. That was when Harry lost it, turning and punching the wall.

"Let me see your hand, Hermione," he ordered, ignoring his own painfully red hand. "That- that bitch. You're right, aren't you? But she was threatening your family, wasn't she?" His green eyes were desperate and furious, his drive for saving people coming to the forefront again. This needed to be contained, but Hermione wasn't quite sure how to do it.

Hermione held her hand out for his inspection. "She was," Hermione acknowledged. She hissed as Harry ran his thumb across the tender area.

"Sorry," he apologized. "How does it feel?"

"Perfectly lovely," replied Hermione dryly. "How's yours?" She took his hand to examine the raw skin.

"Same," he quipped, in the same tone that she had used. "What do you want to do?"

Hmm. She had to think about this a bit. "I'm not entirely sure right now," she admitted. "I want to think over our options. And get some murtlap tentacles."

"Alright," Harry said, heaving a frustrated sigh. "I trust you, Hermione. Do we want to tell Ron about this?"

Hermione hesitated. "No," she finally said. "What I want to do is wear a Glamour. But I think we should tell him anyway." At Harry's slightly confused look, Hermione explained. "Ron would be hurt if he found out later that we had kept him out of the loop. There are some things that we need to tell him, and there are other things that he doesn't need to know. What happened in the graveyard is one example of the later- but tonight is the former."

Unconsciously, Harry ran a hand through his dark and already messy hair. "Maybe we should wait a bit. So he doesn't go off and confront her."

"If you want to," Hermione agreed, biting her lip. "Come on. Let's get to the Common Room. You're already behind in homework, aren't you?"

* * *

Hermione was grading first-year papers at his desk when Severus returned from a meeting with the Dark Lord. When he had arrived, the soft light coming from under the door had put him on high alert- it was disconcerting how much he relaxed once he realized it was her.

She looked up, and gave him a little smile. "I enchanted the quill to reproduce your handwriting," she explained quickly. "I came to find you and you had left. I was bored, so I figured I might as well lighten your workload."

He gave her a rare, tired smile. "Is it vitally important, or do I have time to change?" he asked, voice gravelly.

"What we need to talk about is important, but it can wait until you've showered and changed," Hermione reminded him, casting a critical eye over his body. The scrutiny half-irritated him. "How bad was it?" Her voice was gentle, but not pitying. That alone was enough to make him answer.

"He's planning something big," Severus said bleakly. "I'm worried."

That worried Hermione. She leaned back in his big chair, a frown on her face as she nibbled at her lip. "How big?" she asked, turning her large brown eyes back to him. "Wait- don't answer. Go get comfortable, Severus. I'll just grade a few more papers while you do."

She shooed him away, and he obeyed.

Hermione turned attention back the first year essays- they were atrocious, she could see why Severus was so fed up with them. _Honestly. The properties of a plant like fennel- no, it' s not just for soup. And it doesn't stop sneezes, or- did this kid seriously just say hiccups? Dear lord above, they need some serious help!_ She scrawled an acerbic comment in the margins.

She was working on a third paper when Severus reappeared, in a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt, the shoulders of which were already wet from his damp hair. When she walked passed him to get the tea she had made, she realized that he smelled like herbs and sandalwood. She wondered if he made his own soap or shampoo- it smelled lovely. No- lovely wasn't the right word. Masculine.

"Here," she said, pressing a cup of tea into his hands. "So. What's the Dark Lord have on his mind?"

Severus sighed and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I have no bloody idea," he snarled quietly. "It's got me worried. He speaking of rewarding 'his most loyal followers' and as far as I know, they're all in Azkaban."

"Has he gotten control of the Dementors, yet?" Hermione asked, brow furrowed. "Is he going to try to break them out?"

"We'll see," Severus said darkly. "It'll happen sooner or later. What did you need to speak to me about?"

Hermione sighed. "Well, in light of all this it seems rather silly. Umbridge. She's using blood quills for detention."

She held up her hand. Where Harry's redness had faded away by the time they went to bed, Hermione's fairer skin held the faint impression of letters. Severus didn't make any overt reaction, but his face hardened perceptibly and he rose gracefully, with fluid anger in every line of his body. Wordlessly, he stalked across the room to disappear into his private workroom, reappearing a moment later with a bottle and cloth in his hands.

He sat down next to her, setting the bottle and cloth down on the coffee table. He was close enough for her to smell the herbal scent he used mingled with the smell of his shower and the faint smell of Severus, close enough for her to see the shadow of stubble on his chin, close enough for her to hear his breathing.

Tenderly he took her smaller hand in both of his larger, callused ones. His were covered in small scars and burns from the thousands of potions he had made, but were still eloquently put together, long fingers giving the appearance of slimness despite his broad palms. Her hands were cold- his were warm. She shivered. He ran his thumb over the skin in the same way that Harry had. But for some reason, when Severus did it, the muscles of Hermione's abdomen clenched and she felt giddy.

She was so distracted by his closeness that she let out a small sound of pain. "My apologies," he murmured, eyes darted to her face to assess her comfort level. "Allow me to relieve the pain."

"Of course," she whispered, heart thudding in her ears.

With quick deft movements, Severus uncapped the bottle and upended it on the cloth, gathering some of the liquid. Carefully he smoothed it over the skin on the back of her hand, using long firm strokes to spread the faintly yellow liquid over the area.

"Better?" he asked, voice hardly a rumble.

Hermione's eyes were half closed in relief. "Much," she answered, letting out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Severus." The liquid had burned cold and given her a wonderful feeling of relief.

"What did she have you write?" he asked in a tone anyone else would have called neutral. Hermione could detect the anger in his voice.

"I must not speak ill of my betters," Hermione spat, flexing her hand, her own anger igniting again.

Severus allowed her to reclaim her hand. "You didn't protest?" he asked, a note of what may have been disapproval in his voice.

She gave him a look that clearly communicated, _Of course I did, you dolt. _"She threatened my family and academic scores in front of Harry."

"Ah," he said, nodding his head in understanding. "I assume she made reference to her many friends in high places?"

Hermione confirmed his assumption. "I'm not sure if she was making a genuine threat or if she was playing off my 'Muggleborn ignorance' of the Wizarding World. I'm going to do some digging this week."

They discussed Umbridge, her awfulness, and the various ways Hermione could treat her for another half hour before weariness made itself known.

"Very well," Severus said, yawning. "I'm going to fall asleep right here on this couch. Is there anything else of importance, or can you scat and leave me to sleep in peace?" He yawned again and stretched, drawing Hermione's eye to the lines of his body- the slope of his neck, the breadth of his shoulders, the arch of his back.

She cleared her dry throat. "No," she said, standing and stretching herself. "I'll be off." There was a completely insane urge to kiss his forehead, which she hastily shoved away.

"Goodnight," Severus told her, pushing himself off the couch with groan so he could escort her to the door.

* * *

The next few days passed uneventfully. Harry was stressed and overwhelmed with homework, and, oddly enough, Ron was too. Hermione supposed it could be because she was in detention and not present to nag him about his homework. She really hoped that Ron's inherent laziness wasn't the issue- as annoying and deserving as Ron could be, he could be really sweet and helpful at times- because she had higher hopes for him as a person.

No Ron was hiding something. She wasn't particularly inclined to figure out what it was. She had more important things to worry about- namely, Umbridge and the detentions.

Her hand ached all the time, even with the solution Severus had given her the second night of detention. Even so, by the third night the words on both her hand and Harry's refused to go away. The hateful words sat on top of her skin, oozing her blood. It disgusted her.

Even so, she and Harry did discover what Ron had been hiding. _Quidditch? All the secrecy over Quidditch? I swear, I don't know why I stay with the two of them…_

And then Ron had noticed their hands and become outraged. Especially on Hermione's part.

"That foul, foul woman," he ranted, hardly remembering to keep his voice down. "I want to hurt her, Hermione, for what she's doing to you-"

"Oi!" Harry said, somewhat indignantly. "What about me, mate?" The humor defused the situation quickly, but Ron persisted in insisting that Harry and Hermione try to tell McGonagall.

"Listen, Ron," Hermione said finally, fed up. "This is a game of wills between us. And I don't want to draw Professor McGonagall into this- chances are, she's not going to be surprised. Think about her options. Either she turns Umbridge in, or she stays silent. Reporting Umbridge gets her into trouble with the Ministry, which equals trouble with the press. Professor McGonagall is a respected Transfiguration Mistress- and yet, her name is hardly spotless because of her known association with the Headmaster. This makes matters worse for her, and for the Order. And even if she does go through all that trouble, nothing will happen to Umbridge anyway. There is no point. And yet, if we put this in front of her, Professor McGonagall will be forced to choose between either reporting Umbridge, or not reporting her. Doing something stupid and foolhardy and technically right, or doing something smart yet something that is at odds with her morals and her sense of justice."

She took a breath, and continued. "It would be wrong of us to ask her to do that, because in a situation like this, Professor McGonagall is going to do the Gryffindor 'right thing' even though she is clever enough to know how completely pointless it is. And the fact that it is Harry makes everything more complicated."

Ron was giving her an odd look. "Stop it," she snapped at him. "And don't say what- it's that way that you're _looking_ at me, like I'm-" she couldn't come up with words, so she just glared.

"I'm sorry?" Ron offered, and Hermione fought the urge to burst into tears. Eventually she gave in- it wasn't often that she gave into the hormones and emotions, and sometimes she just _needed_ to.

She put her hands over her face and started sobbing, missing the startled exchange of glances that transpired over her head. Hermione tried to keep quiet, just letting her shoulders shake.

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry, trying to be comforting, He hugged her awkwardly, patting her back and looking helplessly at Ron when she turned to sob into his shoulder.

They were near the Gryffindor Common Room, which was deserted that late at night, and with some maneuvering they made it so that all three of them were sitting on a comfy old red sofa. Hermione calmed down, rubbing at her blotchy face and red rimmed eyes.

"I'm being silly," she said, hiccupping a bit. "I'm sorry for snapping at you Ron- it's just-" she put a hand over her mouth to stop herself. "I'm sorry." _There is so much I'm sorry for. _

"Don't be," Ron said forgivingly. "It's tough, right now. And it doesn't help that Umbridge is making you carve words into your own hand."

Hermione moaned softly. "This is going to scar," she moped piteously, giving in to her vanity for a moment. "Another god-damned scar!"

Harry patted her arm awkwardly. "One more night," he reassured her. "And then we stay on the straight and narrow and avoid getting detention again."

The next day was the Quidditch tryouts- Hermione could see Harry anxiously watching the window for a hint about Ron's placement on the team. She hoped he would get it- although she didn't care for Quidditch one way or another, Ron was still her friend and she wanted him to be happy.

Her blood dripped from her hand onto the parchment, the cuts refusing to heal. It made Hermione nauseous and faintly lightheaded, the crimson of her blood, the ivory of her skin, and the mahogany of the desk. _Next I'll start thinking I'm Snow White_, she thought giddily.

The salve Severus gave her had helped, but she saw that there was no going back now- _I must not speak ill of my betters_ would be permanently etched on her right hand.

The slack smile that Umbridge gave her, and the prickle of pain that shot through her hand when the witch's stubby fingers prodded at the wound, made Hermione want to gnash her teeth and strike out at the woman with her knives. Instead she nodded a terse 'goodnight' and left, Harry close on her heels.

"That woman is foul," Harry hissed at her, eyes wide and somewhat fearful. "My scar ached whens she touched me, Hermione. Do you think she's a Death Eater, or-"

"No," Hermione said immediately. "Gods above, she's awful, but there is no way that she is serving the Dark Lord. I think it was rather an unhappy coincidence that your scar hurt when she touched you. Do you want to go to Dumbledore?"

Harry frowned, face darkening. "No," he said curtly.

"Then tell me about it," Hermione said easily. It made no sense to pressure him when what he would tell her would be reported to Dumbledore later.

The boy's nose wrinkled. "I dunno," he said slowly. "I felt- strange, when she touched me. I mean, my head hurt, but-" he flushed suddenly. "My- my navel felt strange."

It took a moment, but the combination of Harry's red face and the location of the sensation clicked for Hermione. "Oh!" she squeaked, eyes darting away from Harry's face while her mind hastened to put the pieces together. "So he was… happy, then."

"Looks like it," Harry said, looking away. "I dunno. We'll see what the papers report tomorrow, won't we?"

Hermione agreed, and changed the subject quickly, which Harry was evidently thankful for. She waited until everyone had gone to bed, and left to see Severus.

She let herself into his rooms as she had done before, reasoning that he hadn't told her not to, after the time before. _The Dark Lord is calling another meeting just a couple days after the last one,_ she though, a swirl of unease in her stomach. _What happened?_

The possibilities and their repercussions were enough to keep her mind occupied for hours, but slowly she slipped into a light sleep on Severus' sofa. His rooms smelled like he did, a scent so comforting that Hermione had no close her eyes clench her fists to hold back the tears that threatened.

_He smells safe. Safety. Which is ridiculous because Severus is the most dangerous man I've ever met. _

Her thoughts wandered, as she dozed on the sofa. Eventually, her eyelids were too heavy to keep open, and she though with her eyes shut.

_What would happen if I tell him? Could he ever love me? Do I even really love him?_

_I do now- I know my own emotions, I think. But will I forever? What kind of silly, foolish person would I be if I told Severus I was in love with him and ruined this balance between us forever- and then changed my mind? Or if he had feelings for me back and I changed my mind? _

_I suppose I should make a list. It's reasonable and I have time. _

_What I like about Severus Snape: His mind. The way he is graceful when he moves. How his voice drawls and dips and just sounds like a dagger wrapped in silk. His hands when he brews. The intensity of everything he does. When he talks to me like an equal. The way he listens to what I have to say. The lines of his body when he fights. The ease with which he summons his magic and lets it slide around him. His bravery. _

_What I don't like about Severus Snape: He can be a callus git. He can be merciless. How he can be so uncaring. The way he sinks into moods and nothing can get him out. He can be downright nasty half the time. _

_I doubt any of those things are going to change. Except the physical things, but those aren't really that important any way- they're just nice to look at. _

_He's always going to be a nasty git who is moody and snappish. Merciless. I can be merciless. Perhaps we are more alike than I'm comfortable with. _

_Too bad. _

_One day Voldemort will be gone and everything will be better. I'm still optimistic enough to believe that. Naïve enough._

* * *

Severus frowned as his wards alerted him to a visitor- it was probably Hermione again. _She has something of import, I suppose. _

He strode through the doors to his chambers, fully expecting to be in a mood and encourage her to leave as soon as possible. Her presence in a place as personal as his rooms made the little bubble of feeling inside his ribcage squirm. She made him uncomfortable, she unsettled him.

"Whatever your news may be-" he stopped, teeth coming together with a click. She lay on his sofa, her busy cushion of hair making itself useful for once as a pillow. Her face was hardly gentler in sleep, as she was gentle normally.

_It is a strange thing to see Hermione in a cold fury,_ Severus recalled, thinking back to the times when that had happened. _Her face doesn't change so much as her presence. When she is angry, she makes one notice her. Her features come into detail, her eyes snap beautifully- and here I am, staring at her sleep and making a fool of myself. _

He stared a moment longer anyway, taking in the shadow of her lashes upon her cheek and the way she hugged herself in the absence of a blanket. He wanted nothing more than to smooth her hair away, or caress her cheek.

Instead, he wordlessly Summoned a pillow from the other seat and Transfigured it into a blanket, settling it over her with his wand instead of his hands, before stalking off to shower and change.

Severus was buttoning his shirt when he felt, as much as heard, Hermione wake. He left his bedroom and stalked into the sitting room, smiling slightly despite himself when he saw the expression her face. There was a crease mark from where her cheek had rested on the couch, and she was rubbing her eyes with a sleepy slowness to her motions. She was sitting up now, propped against the arm of the sofa.

"Did you have a good nap, Hermione?" Severus drawled, raising an eyebrow and smirking at her.

Predictably, she scowled at him. "No. Your couch is rubbish."

"Liar," he said, still smirking. "Or else you wouldn't have fallen asleep."

She looked like an angry kitten when she was scowling- he could almost forget she was dangerous. "I did come here for a reason, you know. I don't just break into your rooms for fun."

He actually chuckled. "You didn't break into my rooms, you have a password," he retorted. "What did you come about?"

Hermione's brow wrinkled, and she absentmindedly pulled the blanket up. "Harry. He sensed something from the Dark Lord."

With a groan, Severus sunk into the armchair, covering his eyes. He had managed to push it away, the niggling feeling that something was wrong. "I knew it."

"Knew what?" Hermione asked. Now her forehead was furrowing in worry for Severus as well. "Harry said that the Dark Lord was pleased- or aroused."

Severus looked up. "Potter knows what arousal feels like?" He felt slightly repulsed at the thought.

Hermione snorted a laugh. "Um… he's a teenager, Severus. We all know what arousal feels like. But no, he didn't say it out loud, he was too embarrassed. He just said that the feeling came from his navel- and then figured it out and went beet red."

_She's not embarrassed… why?_ "Well, I think I know why the Dark Lord was happy," Severus said darkly. "Lucius came back, crowing about a minor victory against the Order. I didn't stay long- the Dark Lord sent me away, figuring that Dumbledore would call me in about it."

"I sure he will," Hermione murmured, frowning as she tried to finger comb her dark curls. "An Order meeting- I should go."

Severus looked her over, and without hesitation spoke. "Don't Glamour yourself. It's high time that the Order know who is protecting Harry and treat you with the according respect."

In the instant it took Hermione to process the information, she was refusing on principle. "The more people who know the more dangerous it is for me," she snapped. "I already sit in on most of the meetings. I thought the entire point of having me as a bodyguard to Harry was the people wouldn't suspect anything!"

"It is," Severus retorted, just as much ire in his voice. "But I think that this situation is getting too dangerous for this knowledge to be confined to just half of the upper echelons of the Order. Too many could die. And if we wait much longer, they will feel betrayed that we didn't tell them sooner. We cannot afford any rifts in the Order."

Hermione shook her head. "Severus. I'm only there to defend Harry-"

"It's more than that and you know it," Severus snarled in a low voice. "You want me to treat you like an adult, Hermione, then act like it. You need to be protected now just as much as Harry does. How much do you think you know about the plans of the Order? How much information do you think you know about the Dark Lord? About Dumbledore's plans?"

"I know plenty but certainly not everything!" Hermione exclaimed. "I-"

"If you are captured, Hermione," Severus said, stressing her name and meeting her eyes, "Then you could topple this. If they get any information out of you, you would be risking the Order. The lives of those in the Order. My life."

Hermione, a wild, frightened kind of look on her face, glared at him. "No. You've tested my Occlumency walls yourself. They're strong. I've faced the Dark Lord before."

Severus pounded his fist on his leg, visibly trying to calm himself. "Hermione, this is about insuring your protection, and therefore Potter's."

"No, it's more than that because if it was about Harry's protection you would have said something before now," Hermione said slowly, staring into Severus' grey eyes. "It's bigger."

Severus wanted to look away, but he didn't. "The reasons I give aren't enough?"

"Since when have you lied to me, Severus?" Hermione asked, voice heartbreakingly gentle when he expected it to be cold.

His own voice sharpened. "I am a spy. Nothing that comes out of my mouth is ever entirely true," he informed her. "So rid yourself of that illusion."

If she was hurt she didn't show it. "Severus, tell me why you want me to reveal myself to the Order as myself."

"Tell me why you are refusing to do this simple thing," responded Severus.

Hermione looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, rubbing at her jaw with the palm of one hand. "Because at first they won't believe it and they'll force me to prove myself. And then they'll look at me and see someone who's strange- a girl who isn't just weird because she's a 'walking, talking, encyclopedia' but because she's dangerous. They'll feel angry, cheated, lied to. They'll want to tell Ron and Harry."

"Would that be such an awful thing?" Severus asked, feeling awkward now that she had actually answered his question. "To have them know?"

There was no hesitation before her answer. "Yes," she said simply, looking away from him. "They are happy. Kids. Harry bears the weight of the world on his shoulders but he doesn't really know it yet. If they knew-" she looked down and away. "They would hate me at the most and never trust me again at the least. It isn't worth losing their friendship just to let them know that I'm looking out for them."

"Does friendship matter so much to you that you would put it before lives?" Severus asked, long fingers clenching his armchair.

Hermione looked up again, brushing back hair from her eyes. "No, of course not," she said. "If we were in a situation and I needed to reveal myself I would do so. But I want the illusion to last as long as possible, Severus. I want some part of my life where I'm just Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire." Her face changed from open and somewhat emotional to closed. "I've told you my reasons. Now you tell me yours."

"Hermione, you know most if not all of the major operations of the Order," Severus started tersely. "In fact, in the chain of command that the others see, it is Dumbledore, Minerva, and then perhaps Kingsley. But in terms of who knows the plan, the secrets, there is only one person who knows everything and that is Dumbledore. After Dumbledore, I know the most- I have to, it's part of my job as the Order's primary spy. And then there is you."

There was a moment of silence as Hermione absorbed this information. "There are things McGonagall doesn't know?" The fire was flickering, casting long shadows in the room. He hadn't bothered to light torches on the wall brackets.

"Of course," replied Severus. "Dumbledore trusts no one, including me. What I know is what I have to know for my job. One cannot gather and sort important information if one is bombarded from every side with anything and everything. In one meeting with the Dark Lord, I learn hundreds of things and tell Dumbledore only that which is relevant. The rest only I remember and if it appears again or in another context, I can recall it. Therefore, he is forced to share with me most of what is happening, so I can add information from the Death Eaters."

"Then why me?" Hermione asked. "Shouldn't someone else know more than I do?" She was dodging what she knew and it was infuriating him.

Severus wanted to snarl in frustration. Instead, he shook back his still-damp hair from his face to see her clearly. "I know the most, second only to Dumbledore. And _who do I talk to?_"

He saw the moment of realization on her face. "Me."

"Exactly," he said, not quite able to keep the dripping sarcasm from his voice. "As unseemly as it is, I run most of the information pass you. And with good reason- you have the brain for this work, Hermione. You catalog and organize information and are able to recall it with amazing ease. You plot with the mind of a Slytherin, you are as amiable as a Hufflepuff, have the self-confidence of a Gryffindor, and the intelligence of a Ravenclaw. You came up with our entire strategy for Umbridge- Hermione, what you have planned isn't going to be contained within the walls of Hogwarts- you know this. Dumbledore is thinking about bringing you in on some of the larger planning for outside these four walls."

Her face was drawn and he could tell she had already known this. "I'm not a fool, Severus. So what?"

"So _think,_" he snapped at her. "I know you have a brain, Hermione, so _use_ it for Merlin's sake!" When she refused to answer, he propelled himself from his chair. "Who do you think has the most relevant and irrelevant information on the current Death Eaters and plans of the Dark Lord, and Bellatrix Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy in the Order, Hermione? They say you're the brightest witch of your generation, prove it!"

She stood as well, letting the blanket fall to the ground. "Are you implying that I do? Severus, what does this have to do with letting the Order know that Hermione the bodyguard exists?"

"What happens if I die, Hermione?" Severus asked, bearing down on her. "Dumbledore doesn't know as much about the inner workings of the Death Eaters as you do. I've discussed possibilities with you, laid out information on the table that even Dumbledore doesn't know. You know these people through me. If something happened to me, you need to work with Dumbledore and whoever the next spy will be to make sure the Order succeeds."

He was directly in front of her, their chests almost touching. He was so tall that her head was tilted back uncomfortably, her eyes meeting his squarely. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Severus," she said softly.

"Don't be naïve," he sneered. "Every time I walk into the Dark Lord's throne room I risk death. I want the Order to know about you now so that in the event of my death, you can give information and work with adults without it being a terrible shock. They need time to get used to you, to see you in action so to speak. They won't just take my word for it- although Dumbledore's and Lupin's will probably count for something. "

Hermione's muscles clenched in her neck and face, drawing his attention to the fact he was close enough to see it. "To everyone? Or just the Inner Circle?"

Severus blinked down at her. "Just the Inner Circle, for now," he said, feeling his weariness sink down on him. "Let's go see Dumbledore."

* * *

**And so ends Chapter Fifteen.**

**I hope, as always, that you enjoyed the chapter. A bit more angst, a bit more staring, a bit more conflict. In other news, I finished Chapter Twenty! That means we're all set for updates until December. It seems like a long ways away, but it isn't really. :( I need to get writing. **

**My other SS/HG fic, _To Love and All it Entails_ is now finished (FINALLY) and if you feel like it, please give it a read. It is a very different kind of romance compared to FTOH- nothing like this one at all. **

**And now for the preview:**

_**He rolled his eyes at her. "So I should be thanking you for preserving my classroom and cauldrons instead of reprimanding you for corrupting my students?"**_

_**"Save your reprimands for someone they'll effect," Hermione told him innocently. "I know how much time and effort you put into making every one memorable." **_

_**He scowled at her, and she laughed again, ducking out of his office to his mutter of "Impertinent minx!"**_

**I'll see you all next on October 18th!**


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